Cold Whispers
by samarianuel
Summary: There wasn't a single member of faculty at the orphanage that didn't worry about Harry. He had an air about him. He just felt so... disturbing. Well Harry doesn't feel disturbed. He feels great. In fact, he feels powerful. Ever since his imaginary friend taught him how to control his magic, everything started going really well for him. And he's very excited for Hogwarts.
1. Chapter 1

There wasn't a single member of faculty at the orphanage that didn't worry about Harry. Whether they were concerned about his solitude, or wary of the reasons that caused it, there wasn't a monthly meeting that didn't include an incident.

There were only five of them, in such a large establishment, with just over a hundred children, and yet Harry Potter managed to be at the forefront of several minds. Ever since the day he'd arrived, a shifty-looking 6 year old on the stone porch, Madam Nelson had disliked the boy. He had air about him. Oh, and that hair! No matter how many times she had told him to comb it, it had never improved. Honestly, that sort of hair was not the way to get adopted! They'd never see the tail end of him, the way things were going.

Yes, he was a trouble maker that one. Jane couldn't see it though, the poor dear, she was very new, fresh out of school, and clearly had no experience of dealing with bad kids. She was always defending the boy, going far too easy on him. Bless her. She'd have to learn eventually. Mr Knights, the groundskeeper, also seemed to like the boy, though she couldn't fathom why. Well, perhaps he couldn't be blamed either, he was rather a halfwit.

Luckily, they were the only ones to fall for the boy's antics, and she could be rest assured he'd be punished if she was away while he was misbehaving. Just this year caning had been made illegal in schools, a mistake if you asked her, but luckily for them the orphanage was not a school, and as legal guardians, they still maintained the right to punish children as they saw fit. And so they did.

Harry Potter had received the cane many times, getting into so much trouble. He started fights, often disobeyed curfew, and downright hated the other children. He could often be found alone in the garden, mumbling to himself. She had tried her hardest to stamp out that habit, but as long as it kept him out of trouble, she wouldn't push the matter.

He seemed to really not get on with Nathan Hansen and Peter Connolly. Those boys were lovely really, charming, active, friendly. The only reason they hadn't gone yet was their age. People tended not to want anyone over the age of nine, and both boys had just surpassed that sad limit. A true shame, but she always put in a good word for them, and often offered their files up first to prospective parents.

Ever since the boy had arrived, he had started all sorts of nonsense with them, fighting, stealing food, messing up rooms, you name it.

Whenever she questioned him, he had nothing to say. Well, at least he didn't bother lying to her. He might have at first, but he clearly realised it wasn't going to work with her, no sir.

His troublesome behaviour certainly earned him no friends, which was probably for the best, there was no reason for his mischief to be rewarded.

She really should be stricter with him, this behaviour had apparently been going on for _years,_ according to the lovely people that dropped him off. They explained so politely how badly he acted, how they just couldn't afford to support two children anymore, poor dears, she could completely understand, and it was much more reasonable than the young whores that dropped their spawn off in the night to be cared for.

And how bad could a child be that their loving family had to abandon them? Harry certainly fulfilled the criteria. That boy. There was just something so… _disturbing_ about him.

With a shudder, she walked outside to see what the commotion was about.

* * *

Harry Potter did not like the orphanage. He liked it more than the Dursleys of course, but that wasn't a very high standard to keep. He'd been there for two years, and he had long ago given up on adoption.

Not that he wanted to be adopted. That could be very inconvenient for him. Especially now.

He knew exactly why he was here, and he knew why his relatives hated him. He had magic.

He'd known since the incident with his teacher, Mrs Ambling, where her wig turned blue. He'd only known because he'd heard the argument between his aunt and uncle that followed the beating he'd received. He'd had no idea why he was being hurt, or why he was being called a freak, but he crawled behind the sofa to hide away from them, out of his cupboard, at least until they found him.

He'd heard Petunia lament that he was like her sister, that she had found out why all the students had been sent home through gossip, that _he_ was the one that caused it. Then the argument changed into a discussion of what they were going to do with him. He listened, with baited breath. And he remembered exactly what Petunia said.

"If we send him away, _he'll_ come, _Dumbledore,_ " She hissed the name like it was a curse word, "And he'll be angry, he told us to look after him!"

After that Harry had blanked out for a moment. Dumbledore. He had no idea who that was, but he knew he was the reason Harry was stuck there. The reason Harry was holding a fist to his bruised shoulder, lying on the dusty floor, hiding. He knew with a passion that a six year old should not possess that he _hated_ this man.

"I have had it Petunia, I'm taking him tomorrow afternoon, and that's final!" Uncle Vernon stormed off, leaving a rather shocked looking Petunia standing alone in the living room, before she followed him upstairs, seemingly to continue the argument more quietly.

He had lied there for hours after the revelation, in the dark, waiting for everyone to go to sleep, before creeping to his cupboard, hunching over in the dark.

So they were getting rid of him?

No, he was getting rid of them. He didn't need them. If he could turn wigs blue, what else could he do?

He grabbed one of the broken toys he'd stolen from Dudley off the small shelf above him, focusing on the leg that was twisted the wrong way on the action-man; he thought it back to normal. Nothing happened. He imagined it looked the way it should. Nothing happened. He sort of contracted the muscles in different parts of his body, focusing and squeezing. Nothing happened.

Feeling rather hopeless, he threw the toy to the other end of the cupboard and lay down petulantly, sulking.

Ok, so it wasn't that easy.

* * *

It had been the next day he was told to pack his few possessions and get in the car.

It was an old looking building, with classic faded red bricks slowly crumbling. The tall, slanted roof gave the building a nightmarish element, making it look like an old abandoned house. It might have been a Victorian manor at some point. The inside wasn't much better, splintering pale floorboards creaked underfoot, small damp spots and stains marking the walls, the only sign of individuality the beige paint could muster.

The worst part was the cold. There was heating, but it was expensive to heat the entire building, so they usually just kept the warmth within the canteen and common areas. Plenty of tatty jumpers and blankets were provided to keep them warm though.

The moment he'd arrived here there'd been trouble. It was a large establishment, but there were about a hundred kids, ranging from the ages of 4 to 14, and that was always going to be a mess. Most people had to share a room, usually in pairs, but there were a couple of trios, so some people had to sleep alone. Usually the younger ones were grouped up, since they were the ones that got anxious in the night.

Harry had been thrilled to enter his small, cold bedroom. He could sleep on a _real_ bed, rather than the fold up one that he had slept on all his life. It was a fairly small room, at the very end of the corridor, behind a green door identical to every other along the hall. Inside the room, there were two beds facing the door on either wall, with maybe a meter and a half between them. Over each bed was a large shelf running along the long side of the bed. Each bed was leaning against the back wall, which curved in to create a rectangular space at the end of the room, the perfect size for a desk, which sat precisely there. Above the desk hung a large window looking out into the garden, surrounded by faded blue curtains.

At a second glance, the room looked much worse. The pale olive wallpaper was peeling in several places, and there were multiple wet spots soaking through. The curtains had torn edges, and the window pane had a long crack running from the bottom almost all the way up the top of the window. Looking down, the floor was the same horrid floorboard that Harry wouldn't touch without shoes. The desk was probably the nicest thing in the room, a dark brown wood with a small shelf running along the back, housing several books.

He was left by the disapproving woman that had introduced herself as Madam Nelson to his new room. With a sigh, he walked over to the bed on the right, under the shelf that was empty, and unpacked his few belongings. He discovered a small bedside table at the end of each bed, jammed between the wall and the bed that would serve as a dresser and he shoved the few hand-me-downs he had brought into it.

Just as he shoved his old leather briefcase under his bed, a boy walked in.

"Hey, you must be new; I'm your roommate, my name's Scott, what's yours?" The boy asked rather quickly.

"I'm Harry." He responded, slightly disappointed he _would_ have to share his room, as he suspected.

"Cool, I'm nearly seven, how old are you?" He seemed like a fairly pleasant boy, floppy blonde hair falling over his forehead, nearly poking his large brown eyes.

"I'm six. I was six in July." He responded politely. Who knows, maybe this kids could be his best friend someday.

"Well I'm older than you; I'll be seven next month, the 18th of December." He boy seemed to care a lot about age, that's pretty weird. But then again, Harry didn't know much about other kids his age.

"Cool." Harry answered, not really knowing what the boy wanted him to say.

"That's my bed ok, so don't touch any of my stuff." Scott warned Harry, before jumping on the aforementioned bed, as if to prove his point.

"That's ok, I already like that one better." Harry reassured him.

And with the smile Scott gave him, Harry felt slightly better about the terrible accommodations, and thought maybe things could turn out fine.

Until dinner of course.

The boy on his right kept giving him dirty looks, even though Harry kept trying to ignore him, used to the attention from Dudley. It was when the boy started taking the food off his plate he got irritated. He'd just gotten away from this. He'd left this behind, hadn't he? Apparently not. He didn't want to start a fight, not on the first day, so he did what he used to do with Dudley. He ate all of his food as quickly as possible. He managed to eat a whole sausage in one bite, before scarfing down the other one. He shoveled the mash and gravy into his mouth in less than thirty seconds. He looked in triumph at the boy.

He was met with a scowl. The boy also finished quickly and left. Harry stayed while Scott finished his dinner, making small talk, being introduced to Scott's friends, who all found Harry's display very entertaining to say the least.

When Harry returned to his room, he saw his belongings on the floor. He picked up his action-man, the one with the broken leg. It was missing a head. Frantically, he looked through all of his things, and each one was damaged even further than when they arrived with him.

Pure anger filled him. He knew who it was. It was that boy. That one at dinner that had been trying to eat Harry's food.

"Scott. Who was that boy at dinner, the one that was sitting next to me?" Harry interrupted Scott's inane rambling about football.

"Oh, that was Peter. He's not really very nice, but he's best friends with Nathan, who's even worse." Scott said flippantly, walking past the broken toys to his bed.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"How do you mean?"

"Why didn't you tell me that boy was not to be messed with?"

"Dunno."

Maybe it was the flippancy of Scott's tone, but the answer infuriated Harry more than he could describe. How could he do this? He let Harry trick himself into being the butt of the jokes again. The runt. The hunted. No. That wasn't going to happen.

Harry finally sat down on his bed, feeling the threadbare blanket underneath him. It felt rougher than a potato sack. He sat there for a few minutes, anger building up inside him. He finally looked at Scott, who was reaching up for a toy from his shelf. A perfect, brand new toy. The anger finally reached a crescendo, as the large shelf collapsed on top of Scott!

Scott let out a scream of agony, as it hit his pelvis with a sickening crunch, all his possessions falling off, scattering over the floor.

Harry sat there for a moment, not knowing what to do. He felt the anger leave him, but a very small part of him was suddenly euphoric. Like all his problems had been solved. He had liked it when Scott was hit by the shelf. He deserved it. He had caused Harry to undoubtedly be the weak kid, the one everyone picks on. He hadn't even cared. Why should Harry care about this?

Finally he got up, and walked calmly to the door to fetch Madam Nelson from her office.

* * *

Scott had a broken pelvis. He had needed to go to the hospital, and since he was in the middle of the process of being adopted, he never bothered coming back. Harry never saw him again.

Good.

Harry had been right. Peter and Nathan had turned out to hate him. They were crafty of course, and they always managed to get away with things, since Madam Nelson seemed to like them so much. Everything they did to him they would re-enact and blame on him. They would come and start fights with him, leaving him bruised and bloody. He was no match for two boys two years older than him.

On Christmas every child received a donated toy. Harry got a box of little green army men, which he was delighted with. He made sure to keep them in his leather bag, locked in, and stuffed right under his bed. He didn't have to share a room anymore though, which was marvelous. The wall on Scott's side was too damp to install a new shelf, and they decided it would just be easier to leave the room alone. And thus, Harry alone.

Since the little fights had started, Harry had been basically blacklisted as a friend to every child in the orphanage. Each one knew that associating with him would mean facing Nathan and Peter alongside him, which was something no one was willing to do.

Harry had started getting his own back. If the bullies were going to stage Harry's acts of aggression, he might as well get to do them. Soon enough he figured out which room was theirs, and that was when he started messing up their room, tipping things about and breaking toys. He knew they both sneaked out of bed to go watch TV in the common area, but no one ever caught them, since the door to the common area was locked at night, and no one knew how they got in. Well. Harry knew. He followed them one night, and saw them remove the panel on the door. All it took was a screwdriver on two corners and it could easily be taken out.

He made use of this information regularly, to go through their room when he knew they weren't there, or even to sneak into the common room himself occasionally. Of course he got caught a few times, the floorboards were creaky and old! They made a racket every time he moved! But he'd been getting better. He'd memorized the ones that were louder than others, and the ones that were safe.

He was getting fairly sneaky if he said so himself!

* * *

He almost screamed the first time he heard it. The whisper in his head. It was a smooth male voice, saying something incomprehensible. Harry was on edge all day the first time he heard it. The teachers asked if he was ok, or if he wanted to go home. Eventually he went back to the orphanage, collapsing on his bed. The whispers were getting more coherent all day.

" _Hello Harry._ " The whisper greeted him, finally. Harry jumped up in bed, nearly shrieking with terror. Not that it would have done much good, the walls were surprisingly sound proof, as he found out when Scot had screamed bloody murder and no one had realised.

" _There's no need to be alarmed. I'm your friend Harry_." The voice soothed.

"I don't need friends." Harry thought instinctively.

" _No Harry, you don't need them. I can be your friend. I'll never leave you. I'll help you; I can see you're on the path to greatness Harry. I can help you harness your gifts. I can offer you so much power. Just say yes."_

Harry found himself pausing. What if this voice was connected to his gifts? What if he could finally get control? He couldn't afford to pass that up. The voice seemed to hear his thoughts, so maybe he could think his answer?

"Yes. I'll be your friend." Harry could somehow _feel_ the voice smiling at his answer.

" _Hello Harry, my name's Tom_."


	2. Chapter 2

Harry walked through the garden, clutching a small bundle of sticks. No one spared a glance his way, they didn't dare. He had made it very clear that he was not an easy target. After two years in this nightmarish hellhole, there were only a few children that remained at the orphanage from when he had first arrived, but despite this, the new children knew to leave him alone.

He had made his position in the hierarchy very obvious about six months into his stay here.

He had been laying in his room speaking with the voice he had just learned was named Tom.

* * *

"What exactly are my 'gifts'? I don't really know much about it. You said I can control it?" Harry questioned, suspiciously.

" _Yes, I know all about it, Harry, I've been here all this time… watching you grow. I can see your greatness… I would like to help you achieve it_."

"You've been inside my head all this time? What are you? Why haven't you said something sooner?" Harry only felt more confused with every answer.

" _I am a part of you, I have been since you were a baby. I am… Stronger now, you have been…feeding me. I'm sorry… It is hard, I am not…Whole, but I can offer you power beyond your wildest dreams, Harry."_ The voice whispered, seeming to consider everything carefully, or maybe it was more like catching its breath.

"You keep saying that. Can you explain what you actually mean?" He was getting fed up with 'Tom' and his cryptic answers. Just like all adults, the voice wasn't telling Harry everything, and he hated it.

" _I apologise, Harry, of course I will explain… you have magic. This, you already know… But there is a whole community of wizards, Harry, people like you and your parents_." At this, Harry gasped.

"My parents? You know about my parents?" Desperate for any knowledge the voice might have to offer.

" _I'm sorry… I don't know much, as I said… many things are lost to me… I know their names were Lily and James… You look like them… Just like your father, but you have your mother's eyes… they both had magic."_ The voice seemed truly apologetic, but it didn't quell the disappointment Harry felt.

"James and Lily… I didn't even know their names. Aunt Petunia would never tell me." He shook off the feelings of disappointment to continue the interrogation, when the voice spoke up.

"If you want to know about your gifts, go to the garden… look for sticks…I'll tell you which on is best for you." For a second, Harry considered going to sleep early, skipping dinner, and pretending this never happened. He was six, he knew you shouldn't hear voices in your head, uncle Vernon always raved about 'Nutjobs hearing voices' on the news. But, the voice knew things, things he didn't know. Things he desperately wanted to know. He wanted to use his power. He wants to feel the same ingle he did when he turned Mrs. Ambling's wig blue, like when ugly jumpers shrunk in front of him.

Like when that shelf fell on Scott.

And Tom was his friend, he said so. His only friend. The only friend he'd ever need. Supposedly. Besides, he had agreed. So with this thought in mind, he pulled on the least damaged jumper he owned over his school uniform, and left the room for the garden.

Only he was interrupted. He was walking down the hall, when Elliana Danvers and her small group of sidekicks stopped him.

"Nice jumper! How about you give it to me, since it's pink and all. You wouldn't want people to think you're _gay_ , would you?" She was trying her best to be intimidating, using her slight height and age difference to tower over Harry.

He looked down at the offending garment. It was pink, a pale salmon sort of colour, like the curtains at Privet Drive. It had a violet trim, and very clearly _was_ meant for a girl, but it had been donated to the orphanage, and at that point, it was just a case of who got to the box the quickest. Harry liked this jumper, even though it was pink; it was incredibly warm and definitely made up for not owning a coat.

"No, it's mine." Harry defended, not at all daunted by her.

"Well, it isn't really, is it? It belongs to the orphanage. Like you, because your parents didn't want you." She seemed to think she had delivered the biggest insult in the history of rudeness. Harry didn't agree.

"But that's why you're here too, isn't it?" Harry asked innocently. She spluttered slightly.

"MY parents are coming back for me! They said so. Yours aren't though, because they hate you." She was clearly losing some of her confidence, her facial expression stuttering briefly.

"My parents are dead." He said blankly. She looked quite shocked for a second, clearly not expecting that. Most of the kids were at the orphanage for social welfare reasons, or having been seized by the government. There were, as far as Harry could tell, only several kids that had come after their parents had died. Most kids go to relatives when their parents die, just like Harry.

"Just give it to me!" She had clearly tired of talking to him, and made to snatch the jumper of his frame, but too slow, as he was already running in the other direction.

They chased after him immediately, not sparing a second, children in the corridors were shoved aside carelessly as they ran through the halls. Harry flung open the door to the garden, running right over the field, towards the wall, maybe he could jump it? No! It was far too high!

" _You have to want it, Harry, you have to_ _ **need**_ _it._ " Tom chimed in at last.

And Harry did, he really, really did, desperately, because he was going so fast he didn't think he could stop now. He was getting closer, and closer, and he did, he _needed_ to make the jump!

He jumped.

His hands crashed onto the brick wall, and he scrambled up quickly, sitting down, looking at the girls that had just reached the back door. They hadn't seen him yet, but that could change any second. He weighed his options carefully.

He could get down, be immediately beaten up, have his jumper stolen, and get told off by Madam Nelson for starting trouble, or he could jump off the other side. He couldn't just stay up there. Maybe he should just give her the jumper; it wasn't worth the trouble for something so stupid. But then again, it _was_ his jumper. He was _so_ sick of people walking all over him.

The wall was fairly wide, Harry could probably walk on it if he was careful. Looking over, he could see that it stretched all the way around the orphanage grounds, joining with the very back of the orphanage.

So Harry jumped over the edge. His body hit the floor with a surprising lightness, as he felt the small tingle once again. Running along the wall, he felt a sense of glee. He was out. Other than school, he hadn't left the orphanage for months. Coming to a slow, he realised that he could relax.

There was no one chasing him. No one watching. No one had seen him go, so there was no one waiting for him. He was truly alone for the first time in his life.

It was _glorious_.

Even Tom was silent. This was a peace Harry had never felt before. How could anyone have a problem with _this_? How could something like loneliness even exist if this is what it felt like?

He sat there; back against the cement wall, for almost twenty minutes, just enjoying the peace of the forest that sat before him.

" _Harry, do you remember what you came here for?_ " Tom finally broke the silence.

With a sigh and a sense of calm Harry pulled himself up from the soft grass, dusting himself off slightly.

"Yes, somehow I managed to forget the one instruction you gave me half an hour ago, I really am that stupid, how did you know?" Sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

To prove his point he began picking up random discarded sticks.

" _It can't be just any stick… find one that stands out to you…"_

Harry spent the good part of an hour looking through random sticks, not venturing too far into the woods, but covering a large surface area none the less.

Eventually he found a decently sized branch, about as long as his forearm, and just as thick as a grown man's thumb. It was dark in colour, and small black thorns were spotted over the curved stick. Picking off the thorns towards the thicker end, he confirmed that this was an okay choice with Tom.

" _Black Thorn…Interesting… That will certainly do._ "

"What was the point of this again?" Harry thought this had better be worth it, since he'd just spent a good hour of his time on it.

" _Magic… bursts from wizards and witches… a force that is difficult to control… Long ago they found that staffs and walking sticks acted as a funnel…concentrating the magic…not long after, wands replaced staffs, concentrating the magic to the point that it could be perfectly controlled…the art of wandless magic is difficult because it is like trying to manually contain an aura you give off…"_

"What, so this is a wand then?" It couldn't possibly be that easy, could it?

" _No… a wand needs a magical conductor… this should work for you… you can learn to control your magic without a wand… It will be easier to learn before you learn to use a real wand… like learning to ride a bike without ever using stablisers…"_

"So I'm not reliant on it, okay, I see, but what purpose does this serve?" He gestured to the stick.

" _You must picture the magic, flowing from the wand. If you can manually concentrate it to the point of a stick… you can do it without the aid of anything."_

Harry pointed the wand at a rock, thinking rather hard at it.

" _No… You must need it to happen… Want it as though your life depends on it… It will become easier, magic is like a muscle…"_

Harry relaxed his pose, looking at the rock. He needed it to grow. He _needed it so badly._

He felt a very faint tingle, much less obvious than previous times, and before his very eyes, the rock grew to the size of a small boulder.

With a vicious grin, Harry strode around the forest, practising this again, and again, and again, until the sky had turned from a light grey to a deep blue. Checking his watch, he realised it was dinner time.

He scurried along the wall to the section that almost connects to the back wall of the orphanage, with an abnormally high jump, he was on the wall, checking his watch again, he found that dinner was very nearly over, but looking over to the closest window, he got an idea.

Jumping to the ground, he sneaked back into the building, creeping up the stairs, to Elliana's room.

Working quickly, he gathered all of her clothes, and threw them out the window. He ran back to his room along the hall, opening his window and waiting.

He didn't have to wait long.

He heard the scream from several windows along, Elliana swearing and cursing through the open window. The screams were quickly followed by the thudding of dozens of feet down the stairs, excited to see what was going on.

After a moment, he saw her emerge from the back door, followed by most of the kids at the orphanage, but before she could get close to them, Harry acted.

Pointing his wand at the pile, he had just one desire.

The clothes burst into flame, throwing back the girl only a few feet away from the plumes of heat!

She screamed again, this time out of fear, looking around frantically for whoever could have done it, her eyes caught Harry's, looking at her from the window.

The glint of fear in her eyes said enough.

* * *

No one could prove he had done it, but Elliana had insisted to everyone that would listen that Harry had burnt her clothes. Even Madam Nelson had told her to see reason; there was no way it could had been Harry, no matter how much it must have been him, no one could set clothes on fire from a story up.

Not even him.

It was soon after that people had started leaving him alone. Except for Nathan and Peter of course, but he could deal with that. He had. He had dealt with that for almost two years now.

Despite the fact that only a few kids remained from the time that incident took place, Nathan and Peter were the only children to still look down on Harry. Things had gotten mildly better though; their bullying no longer got the joyful ovation it used to, the kids were too afraid of Harry's temper to laugh.

Peter had lost interest, but Nathan seemed to take it as a challenge.

It was a rainy day after school, and Harry was walking along in his suspiciously warm clothes, when Nathan decided to act.

"Hey Harry!" Nathan ran up to him, "Look, hey, I just wanted to say sorry. Sorry for all the things we're done to you." As he spoke, Peter nodded alongside him. "We know you don't have any reason to forgive us, but I have something that can make it up to you, I promise!" Harry gave him a suspicious look.

"Oh yeah?" He asked, not fooled for a second.

"Just meet us in the forest over the wall at 5, okay? You're in there all the time; you know that old trunk that's fallen over? Go there." Yes, Harry had been in the forest almost every day since the incident with Elliana. Nathan really looked quite genuine. He was certainly an impressive liar.

"Oh, and don't tell anyone, it's got to be our little secret!"

"Alright then." Harry nodded, doing his best to humour them. With a friendly smile, they both ran off to find cover. He had spent the next two hours planning for the obvious trap. Tucking his 'wand' into the trouser pocket he'd specifically lengthened for this purpose. He was much less reliant on his wand, it worked as more of a placebo these days, but he wanted it for this.

This was going to be special.

He sneaked behind the building and jumped over the wall like usual, falling to the floor lightly, and took off towards the small side gate. Sure enough, Nathan and Peter's footprints were already deep in the mud. Harry stamped the footprints, making them much harder to ignore, and followed along all the footprints in that fashion, splashing mud all the way up to his knees.

Finally he found the clearing with the trunk, where Nathan and Peter were sitting, looking excited.

"Harry, you made it!" Nathan seemed very pleased, giving a friendly wave. Peter snickered at the state of Harry, who looked a mess. His legs were covered up to his knees in mud, trousers long ruined, his hair the usual chaotic nightmare, only accentuated by its dampness, and small streams of dirty rainwater dripped down his cheeks, leaving mud trails in their wake.

"You asked me to." Harry responded, apathetic to the state of his clothes and hair.

"And you actually came!" Peter giggled, as the both jumped down from the log, walking over to him.

"You said you have something to show me?" Harry grasped the wand in his pocket.

"Yeah, look, isn't this cool?" Nathan said, pulling out a small, sliver knife. Harry took a small intake of breath, he didn't expect this. This would be a bit more problematic.

"It's so cool, isn't it Harry?" Peter cackled, advancing towards him slowly.

"Are you going to kill me?" He asked calmly.

"Haven't decided yet, are you going to tell on us?" Nathan seemed to consider this for a second.

"What will you do if I say no?" Harry asked him calmly once again.

"Probably just cut you up a bit, maybe on your forehead, no one will notice, they'll just think it's part of that freaky scar you've got." Nathan seemed rather gleeful.

"I see." Harry responded emotionlessly. He pulled out his wand, which was met with laughter.

"Oh no, he he's got a thorny stick, what'll we do?" Peter laughed hysterically. Then he fell to the floor, mid-cackle, the green flash of light disappearing as quickly as it came.

Nathan didn't even seem to realise what had happened, staring blankly at the cooling child's corpse.

Then he looked up. He ran at Harry, and was hit with a red light. He immediately crumpled to the ground screaming, but was quickly silenced, mouth stretched open as his screams seemed to disappear. For the first time in years, Harry smiled.

It was a hideous smile, wrong somehow, as though it should have never happened. He let out a small laugh, but quickly stopped; hating the strangled cry that had come from his own throat.

He was relishing the moment, the joy of revenge, the first real thing he'd felt in years, pure thrill drilling its way into his bones. This was payback for everything Nathan had ever done to him, he was only disappointed he had acted so rashly with Peter, he was always the infuriating one.

After a decent enough period of torturing Nathan, he finally released him from the spell. He stepped over the now gasping and crying boy, and straddled his chest, picking up the discarded knife from the forest floor.

"Don't worry, Nathan, I won't tell."

He slammed the knife into Nathan's throat, watching the blood spurt out, before slowing into a waterfall of red cascading down his neck. It seeped onto the mud below, immediately disappearing into the brown sludge. Any blood left on his skin lashed away by the furious rain, still pounding into his flesh.

Harry finally stepped up from the body, taking the knife with him, pocketing it alongside his wand. Looking around, he knew there was nothing that could link him to this evidence-wise. He had only touched the knife, but as long as no one found it, it couldn't be linked to him.

" _If you leave the other boy like that… the wizarding authorities will get involved… they could trace it back to you…_ " Tom helpfully joined the moment.

So, Harry walked over the Peter's corpse and slit his throat, much more artfully than he had with Nathan. Wiping the blood off on Peter's clothes he once again pocketed the knife and strode off, back towards the orphanage, careful not to leave any footprints. He washed his hands and wrists of in the rain, but there was no saving his tatty clothes by any normal means.

In a moment his clothes were dried, cleaned, and warm. Even when he ventured into the downpour once again, he remained dry and toasty. Convenient thing; magic.

He jumped over the wall and managed to climb in through a window unseen, and creep down to the dinner hall. He was only five minutes late. He was unbothered throughout his meal, as usual, but made a point of tripping over some boy, just to make sure they remembered where he was.

Harry had lay in bed that night, in the pitch dark, and for the last time in years, he smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry was thrilled. His Hogwarts letter was due any day now, according to Tom. Although Tom didn't seem to remember a lot about the world, but he seemed to know enough to fill Harry in on the important bits; Hogwarts, the four houses, etc.

And of course, Dumbledore.

Harry remember the first time he had heard that name, crouched behind a sofa, his aunt screeching his fault in Harry's life. It was one of his earliest imprinted memories, and it was a vivid as his hand in front of his eyes, that is to say, excellent, since he had gotten a new pair of thin, rectangular glasses.

Oh yes, Dumbledore, the meddling old man that had ruined Harry's life. He should thank him really, after all, it was thanks to him he met Tom. If not for Tom, who knows what could have become of him? Reliant on a wand, a hapless orphan, knowing nothing about the world he came from.

Tom was a true friend, and Dumbledore, well… he certainly was not.

And it was so, that every day of June, Harry waited. Though, he still went to the forest almost everyday, practicing. He would often gaze at the spot where Nathan and Peter died, fondly remembering the screams that could be heard all the way from the orphanage when the joggers found them.

The police had no idea what to do, and the case was never closed. It had been so _easy_.

It was on one such day, when he was in the woods on a Friday after school that a small, brown owl swooped down towards him.

"Finally." He muttered, too excited to sound annoyed. He inspected the envelope, which read;

" _To Mr Harry Potter,_

 _Room 19_

 _Sunny Starts Orphanage_

 _12, Chenton Drive_

 _Surrey"_

He carefully opened the letter, ceremoniously, as though it were precious. Cracking open the seal with baited breath, Harry turned the letter around to read it.

 _Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

 _Dear Mr. Potter,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

 _Deputy Headmistress_

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

 _UNIFORM_

 _First-year students will require:_

 _sets of plain work robes (black)_

 _plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

 _pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

 _winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)_

 _Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags._

 _COURSE BOOKS_

 _All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

 _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk_

 _A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

 _Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

 _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_

 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_

 _Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_

 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_

 _OTHER EQUIPMENT_

 _1 wand_

 _1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

 _1 set glass or crystal phials_

 _1 telescope_

 _1 set brass scales_

 _Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad._

 _PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

He read the letter again. And again. And again, hungrily. He immediately ran back into the orphanage, followed by the owl, straight up to his room, and sat at his desk. He quickly scribbled down an acceptance letter, which he sent off with the owl that had followed him all the way back.

Then he wrote an almost identical letter to the one he had just received, excluding all of the witchcraft stuff. He quickly used a copying spell to clone the signatures onto the letter.

Harry carefully placed the original letter in his old, leather suitcase, along with his few, precious belongings, including his old jumper, and his old thorny branch. He turned back to the letter on the desk.

He picked that up immediately and left for Madam's Nelson's office, meeting no hindrances whatsoever.

"Madam Nelson?" He knocked on the open door.

"Yes, what is it?" She asked, not looking up from her paperwork.

"Well, it's just that I got a letter. From a school." He said in his meekest voice. She looked up sharply.

"What? Let me see." He beckoned him over.

"It's a boarding school, so I'll only be back during the summers. I was really hoping I could go."

"Who paid for this?" She tore the letter from his hands and scanned the letter with a hawk eye.

"My parents, before they died. They also set up a fund so I can buy stuff for it apparently." Harry could tell she was very tempted at the idea of not seeing him for most of the year.

"Well. I suppose that should be fine, just tell them to fill in the paperwork when you get there." She put the letter into her pile of paper.

He could tell she was worried about him ruining his chances by telling them about extra paperwork too soon.

"I was going to go to London tomorrow, to do the shopping?" Harry tried.

"Yes, yes, that'll be fine." She waved him out. Wow, she really hated him, that was straight-up illegal. He left the office for lunch, already planning a wonderful day out.

* * *

He looked down the road, clutching the leather briefcase containing his savings and few belongings, sans clothes of course. #he didn't like leaving his possessions at the orphanage; although no one would dare bother him, he didn't want to risk some cocky new arrival getting nosy.

He was dressed in his best clothes, clean brown trousers, a deep blue polo shirt, his blue converse, and his brand new maroon hoodie. He'd taken it out of the older kids' clothes bin, so it was slightly large for him, but not so much that he looked ridiculous, it just lent him an air of innocence that could serve him very well.

To the common eye, he was just another preteen on a day out in London. Well, except for the scar. The pale fractal pattern that scattered over the right side of his head, one thin, long, strand creeping over his eyebrow and running down over his right eyelid. It looked as though someone had ripped his head apart and jammed it back together again, not quite fitting. It looked like a burst of lightning. Actually, it was a curious thing, the scar, it seemed to almost grow over the years, overtaking more and more of his face.

To be honest, his scar was one of the only things Harry liked about his appearance. That's why he kept it unhidden by his short, messy hair.

The only other thing that ruined his innocent act was the sharpness of his face, the one that made him look suspicious, the reason everyone seemed to easily believe the worst of him. It was a small flaw, but only slightly inconvenient for him, after all, fuel is always needed to start the fire of doubt.

" _The leaky cauldron…_ "

"Yes, Tom, I know." He thought back, honestly, as if he could forget the name of a gateway into the magical world. He'd been dying to come here for nearly a year, since Tom told him about it, but as Tom explained, child trust funds in the magical world are only accessible when they receive their Hogwarts letter, and Harry wasn't sure that he could walk through a world like that without being able to interact with it. Only wizard money was acceptable there, and the conversion rate might have left Harry with a few sickles, so, he had waited.

He strode up to the small pub, and walked in. He was met with the illustrious feel of magic. It was an old, run-down looking pub, with a good few patrons bustling about, having an early lunch, or having a drink of something orange at the bar. He began to walk towards the back, when he froze.

"Oh Merlin, it can't be."

"Is that really…"

"It's Harry Potter!"

And Harry was immediately met with a round of applause, people reaching for him, grabbing his hand, shaking his shoulder, swarming him with yells of surprise and joy. Harry was suddenly confused and frustrated.

"Umm, hello?" He tried. He was only ignored, as everyone continued to crowd him, muttering and squealing.

"He looks just like his father!"

"But he has his mother's eyes!"

Then something caught his attention.

"Oh, he even has the scar!" One young-ish looking witch mumbled, staring at him. He reached up to touch the scar, confused. Was this how they recognised him?

" _They admire you…use it!_ "

"Hello everyone!" He turned on a smile, "I was just hoping to get some shopping done, and I was really hoping for some peace?"

"Oh, you're not here alone are you? I'll come with you!" Several different 'fans' immediately countered. Harry must have let his concern show on his face, because just then someone stood up.

"A-actua-tually, I-I am-m h-here t-t-to hel-help w-ith m-m-m-mr Pot-pot-otter's sh-shopping." A tall, turbaned man stuttered.

"Uh, Yeah, he is. I will once again just ask for some peace?" Harry begged the crowd.

"Oh, of course Harry!"

"As long as you're safe!"

The patrons returned back to their activities with a fair reluctance, as Harry followed the strange man towards the alleyway. The man took out his wand, tapping it to the wall several times, revealing a large doorway. Harry just stared through it, at the quiet, beautiful world he was about to enter. He looked back to the man.

"I-I am-m p-prof-professor Qu-Quirrell. I wi-will b-be yo-your d-d-d-defen-defence t-teacher thi-is y-year." He managed to just stutter out.

"Well, I greatly appreciate the help, sir." Harry gave him a charming smile, hoping to garner favour before the school year had even begun. "If you don't mind, I'll just be off to meet my guardian now, but thanks again!" Harry smiled.

Quirrell smiled at him, "If-f y-y-you s-sa-say so-o," before taking off to the left, down some other road. Harry was shocked it had been so easy to ditch the man. He really seemed as though he was going to accompany Harry.

" _Maybe he will… You just won't know it…_ "

Of course, he must be preparing to follow Harry in secret. Oh well, he'd just have to be on his best behaviour then. He was sure Quirrell would make himself scarce. That just left him with another problem. He was famous?

" _I had no…idea…_ "

But what exactly was he famous for? How? He hadn't been in contact with anyone magical since his parents died, so how did they recognise him just from his face? His scar? That must have been it, surely? They seemed to know what his parents looked like, maybe that was it? But what did his parents look like? All he knew from Tom was that he looked like his dad, with his mother's eyes.

Either way, he find anything out just standing there. He took a deep breath, and left the small alleyway, stepping into bustling streets on Diagon Alley. Luckily, no one seemed to notice him, everyone far too busy with their back to school shopping to see him, and quickly he disappeared into the hoards of happy witches and wizards.

First stop, Gringotts bank.

He took note of the warning on the front of the bank that read:

 _Enter stranger, but take heed_

 _Of what awaits the sin of greed_

 _For those who take, but do not earn_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn_

 _So if you seek beneath our floors_

 _A treasure that was never yours_

 _Thief, you have been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there._

Well that was ominous. He passed the through the tall, imposing doors, and felt a gentle cool air, a serious contrast from the hot summer air outside.

He walked to the nearest available teller, and politely inclined his head, just how Tom taught him.

"Hello sir." That was important. Let the Goblin respond to him, it made it more like a conversation than a transaction, and the 'sir' would likely help the goblin feel more comfortable with helping him.

"Hello." The goblin seemed to preen with the respect. "How may I help?" It asked, clearly much more awake than the other tellers dealing with customers.

"Well, Mr… uh…"

"Goldfang" The goblin flashed a toothy grin.

"Well, Mr Goldfang, I was hoping to access my account? It should be for the name Potter." Harry weakly smiled, the image of a polite child.

"I see, and do you have your key, mister Potter?"

"Uh, no sir, I didn't realise I needed one." Harry was truly puzzled by this. He had never had a key for the account as far as he was aware.

"That should be no problem, your magical guardian must have it. That must be Dumbledore, yes?" The goblin seemed to almost spit the man's name. "He is the wizards' automatic guardian to orphans is he not?"

"I didn't know that."Harry growled, before quickly trying to hide his aggression. He knew he had failed when Goldfang gave him a considering look.

"Well, Mr Potter, if you'll just allow me to take a drop of blood, the key can be recalled for you." Goldfang stared at him with his beady black eyes.

"Oh, yes please." Harry rolled up his sleeve for Goldfang, who reached over with a knife and a small phial. Stabbing Harry lightly over his wrist, he held the phial to the wound, and squeezed out several drops of blood. He proceeded to pull a small bowl out from under his desk, full of a strange blue liquid, and poured the contents of the phial into it. Waving his hand over, he muttered something, and the liquid vanished.

From the bowl, he pulled out a small, brass key.

"This is yours Mr Potter, and as long as you hold this, no one else may legally interact with your account without your expressed permission." He held the key out to Harry.

"Thank you, sir!" Harry stared at the small key with slight wonder, considering how he could ensure its safety. On a string like a necklace? He was pulled from his thoughts by the teller calling a smaller, younger goblin forwards.

"This is Griphook. He will escort you to your vault." Griphook made to leave, clearly expecting Harry to follow him, when Goldfang gripped him by his shoulder, whispering something in his ear. Griphook nodded, and turned back to Harry.

"This way Mr Potter." He walked off once more.

"Thanks for all your help!" Harry called after him to Goldfang.

Yes. Almost just as rehearsed.

After getting off the roller coaster mine cart, he was met with a tall dark door. He handed the small key over to Griphook's outstretched claws. The small goblin proceeded to run his hand over the door, and inserting the small key into the small keyhole that appeared.

When the door opened, Harry was shocked.

Piles and piles of gold, stacks of silver, small trinkets and old, dog-eared books filling the room from floor to ceiling. Harry could do nothing but gape for several seconds. He had had no idea he had this much money. Wait, this must be the main account though, right?

"Um, Mr Griphook? This isn't the main family account is it?"

"No, this is specifically your vault, created the 5th of August 1980 by your parents Lily and James Potter." Griphook seemed to be very entertained by Harry's shock, showing many teeth.

"Everything in this vault was specifically chosen for you to have at this age."

Harry looked at his briefcase rather hopelessly. It could certainly not fit as much as he wanted inside it.

"Enlarge it… Just the inside, it's difficult, but you should be … able to do it."

Harry's grip on his case tightened, as he scrunched up his nose slightly. For something so difficult, concentration was he set it down to the gold-covered floor, opening it. He was shocked to see that the inside was now huge just the size of a room, maybe twice the size of his small room back at the orphanage. Grinning, he started piling dozens and dozens of coins into it. After he deemed that he had enough money for the year, he started to look around the huge room a bit more. He noticed several books, all various ancient guides to magic. Then he found one book he paused on.

 _The Tales of Beedle The Bard_

Flicking through, he saw it was a children's story book. The stories that never got read to him. He clutched it to his chest, before carefully dropping it into the case as well. It would be useful, yes, he could learn about the culture some more. Yes, very important.

There were some other items in the vault, wands, and small trinkets, but he passed over the wands with little thought, they were pointless to him. Most of the trinkets were items of jewelry.

"Some of the items have enchantments on them. We can provide a list of which items and their enchantments if you desire." Griphook cut in.

"Yes, please." Harry stood from his crouch.

Griphook pulled out a sheet of parchment from seemingly nowhere, and handed it over to Harry. Skimming the list he saw that most of the items were charmed for protection of some sort. He picked out a small, plain, gold ring, that had a "Notice-me-not" charm on it. If the charm did what it said it would, this would make shopping much easier.

"Do I have to wear this for the enchantment to work?" Harry held the ring out to the goblin. He had never been one for jewelry.

"I believe so, but there are those that go about changing the object of the enchantment, in fact, I believe there is one down Knockturn alley, that goes by the name Borgin and Burkes." The goblin gave him a sinister grin.

"Oh okay, thanks." Harry nodded at him, slipping on the ring with a sigh.

Deciding he was done here, Griphook escorted him back through the bank to the foyer.

"Thanks again for all the help!" Harry waved goodbye to Griphook, receiving an approving look from the goblins nearby.

As he left the bank, he checked his list, trying to decide what to get first. After a few moments of consideration, he began heading for Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions.

As he walked along, he noticed that absolutely no-one was looking at him, not even passingly along the street. Looks like the ring worked perfectly, now, if he could only change it into a necklace or something, even just put it on a string around his neck.

He arrived in the shop, and stood there for several minutes, before noticing his mistake. Pulling off his ring, he was met by a rather short, portly woman that looked to be in her mid-fifties.

"Oh hello dear, how can I-" She stopped as soon as she saw his scar.

"Hello miss, I was looking to buy my school uniform, and maybe some other robes as well?" Harry pretended to not notice her gaping.

"Oh, yes, of course!" She bustled around the counter towards him. "If you'll just step up here Mr Potter." She lead him over to a small platform, next to another one with a small blonde boy being measured, who seemed to suddenly perk up at the mention of Harry's name.

" _He is a Malfoy… They are important, and very influential… Use him, and your fame if you can._ " Tom perked up at the sight of the child.

"Hello there." The boy, Malfoy, greeted him, as Harry was being measured.

"Hi." Harry said shortly. He could already tell what sort of boy this was. The way he was desperately trying to polite when his eyes so clearly said he was excited, showed exactly what he was trying to do. He was going to befriend Harry, likely to use this 'fame' of his to gain more influence, if what Tom said was true, and his parents had probably told him to do exactly that. Well. Harry was not going to be used. He was going to use.

"Draco Malfoy." The boy reached over to Harry, extending his hand.

"Harry. Harry Potter." He shook Malfoy's hand. He was certainly not going to be the one to sustain this conversation. Let Malfoy feel uncomfortable, make him feel like he has to try hard. It would leave a lasting impression on their future relationship, after all, first impressions are so hard to wipe away. After a moment, he took the bait.

"Excited for Hogwarts? I am. I know I'll be in Slytherin, I don't think there's any point in the other houses to be honest. Where do you think you'll be going?" He bragged with a slimy sort of voice.

"Slytherin. Or maybe Hufflepuff." Harry decided to throw a spanner in the clockwork-like brain of this poor little boy.

"Hufflepuff?" He spluttered incredulously. "But they're-"

"Hard workers. Yes. Don't you work hard, Malfoy?" Harry met his gaze blankly.

"Well yes, but-" He cut himself off as a blonde woman entered the shop, striding towards them. Looking like he'd remembered his mission, and probably trying to impress the woman that could only have been his mother, he turned back to Harry.

"Well, no matter what house you're in, you'll need company I imagine?" The cool, smug voice was back.

"I suppose I will." Harry nodded at him. With the clear agreement between them dawning on the mother, she interrupted the conversation.

"Come, Draco, we must leave." He stood regally, looking between the two boys with something akin to pride in her eyes.

"See you soon." Draco nodded again, before leaving the shop, hold a new set of robes in his arms.

After a few more minutes, Madam Malkin had asked Harry what sort of other robes he had wanted, an he had ordered two sets of everyday robes, and a set of dress robes. She had informed him that they would be complete and ready within the hour, and he had left to finish his shopping, once again with the ring.

He later collected his clothes after a trip to the apothecary and the book shop, and set down for lunch at a nice-looking café. All that was left was his wand.

" _And an owl_." Tom reminded him.

He'd get the owl last, he just wanted to get the wand bit over with.

Entering Ollivander's he wondered why everything in the wizarding world was so dusty when they had cleaning charms. He stood there for a moment, until an old man emerged from a back door, looking Harry over with an unnerving amount of interest in his pale eyes.

"Hello, Mr Potter." Harry was really sick of everyone knowing his name, he must have heard the word 'Potter' about a hundred times just that day.

"Hi, I was hoping to buy a wand?" Harry still put up his cutesy act, although he could tell Ollivander was not an easy to fool man, despite how he may seem.

"Of course, of course." He muttered, and just like that they began trying wands. Every time, Ollivander would hand Harry a wand, and Harry would halfheartedly wave it, and something would blow up. It was a very odd feeling, using a wand for the first time. It was very restricting. His placebo had been more of a mental exercise, but this felt like it was actually sucking his magic through it. Very Strange.

They went through wand, after wand, after wand, Olliander becoming more and more excited each time. After "Cherry wood, Dragon heart string, 10 inches" Ollivander stopped.

"I wonder…" He muttered before wandering through the back door once more, emerging moments later, with a dusty, (Seriously, did wizards actually know that cleaning spells existed) thin box. He pulled it out, looking at in a sort of wonder, and handed it to Harry carefully.

The moment Harry felt it, something strange happened, sparks shot from the tip of the wand, green and gold, before they began somehow melting the wood floor floor below. The wand was snatched from him.

"Curious, very curious." Ollivander looked shocked.

"Um, what's curious?"

"The core of this wand, it responds to you, but the wood is… incompatible. I may have to adjust it, I suspect this is the only core for you. Curious." Ollivander muttered, wandering towards the back.

"Wait, when will it be ready?" Harry called after him. Seeming to remember Harry was there, Ollivander turned back to him.

"Oh, not too long, I believe you were close with this wand," He pulled another wand from the discard pile, "I may just need to switch the cores. Perhaps an hour?" Before waiting for an answer, he left the room.

Bloody excellent. He didn't even want a wand.

With a sigh he left the shop, and decided to go buy an owl. He could probably waste an hour looking at the animals.

* * *

There were a variety of animals at Eeylops Owl Emporium, despite what the name implied. There were crups, kneazles, all sorts of reptiles, and yes, owls. He was looking through the small lizard-like creatures when he heard an angry voice.

" _Cold… Too cold. Bad wet._ " He couldn't see who the voice belonged to, there were only a few other people in the shop, and they were nowhere near him.

" _Bad bad bad wet._ " The voice continued. Harry started walking in the direction it came from, only to see a tank with three snakes draped over fake branches.

" _Yes, we know, bad wet, shut._ " Another voice came. Harry stared. It was the snakes. Fascinating, but why could none of the other animals speak?

" _They can't… You can speak to them… Only you can speak to them…_ " Tom explained.

He could speak to snakes? And it wasn't a wizarding thing? How strange. The snakes were still complaining, and Harry decided to try this out.

" _How is the wet bad?_ " Harry asked, politely. The snakes lost their minds.

" _A Speaker!_ "

" _He can speak, he can understand!_ "

" _Among us, oh a speaker!_ "

" _Yes, yes, shh, or someone will come over._ " Harry quieted them down. " _Now, how is the wet bad?_ "

" _Oh speaker, it taste wrong. Bad for scales. Itchy_." Harry looked at the base of the tank that was full of water, and saw that the complaining snake was carefully avoiding it. It was a long snake, with pale grey scales, and deep silvery eyes. The other two snakes were an iridescent silver with black stripes, and were clearly much more comfortable, stretching into the water.

" _It's a black mamba…It isn't an aquatic species… The other two are sea krait._ " Tom read off his apparently encyclopedic knowledge of snakes. Harry slid off his ring, and waited

Sure enough, a shop assistant quickly bustled over, glanced at his scar and gulped slightly.

"Hello sir, how may I help you?" The poor young man looked terrified. Ah, fame.

"This snake is in the wrong habitat." Harry pointed to it. "It's a black mamba, they don't belong in water."

The shop assistant looked at him in horror.

"I'm ever so sorry sir, I'll move it at once, unless you want it sir? It would be free of charge of course, for the inconvenience." He stuttered out quickly. Harry looked at the snake, contemplating. He wasn't really sure he wanted a snake, but it could serve to be very useful, it could go places Harry couldn't. The Hogwarts letter hadn't technically disallowed any pets other than the ones listed. Finally deciding, he turned to the man.

"Yes, okay, but I also need an owl, which I'll pay for myself." The assistant smiled in relief, before pulling out his wand, and levitate the snake into a new, dry tank, and floating it over to the counter. "Right this way sir." The man lead Harry over to the area full of owls.

They were all rather handsome animals, but Harry saw one that caught his eye. A white snowy owl with large amber eyes. He reached out to her, ignoring the panicked gasp of the assistant, and she hopped onto his outreached forearm. He held his other hand out to her, and she nipped his finger, drawing a small amount of blood. He almost didn't notice the pain, and began to stroke her feathers, smearing her with blood.

"She's rather aggressive, but she she seems to really like you." The assistant muttered, eyes wide at the frankly alarming display.

"Well, I'll have her." Harry commanded, not looking at the man.

He left the shop with both animals in separate travel containers, and sat at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, enjoying an unmelting mint choc chip ice cream and brainstorming names. Finally he reached a decision.

"You will be Hedwig." He says to the owl, who hooted slightly in approval.

" _And you- wait, are you female?_ " Harry suddenly realised he had no idea what gender the snake was; the voice was very ambiguous.

" _No, no female, no eggs._ " The snake responded excitedly, obviously very pleased with the way things were going for him.

" _Okay, then you will be Zaccai._ " The snake reared in delight at its new label. Well that went down well. He considered for a moment.

" _May I hold you?"_ He asked Zaccai curiously.

" _Yes, Speaker, it's honour!_ " He responded excitedly, already coming towards the front of the container. Harry reached in and pulled the pale creature out. He was just over a meter long, stretching over Harry's arms and shoulders calmingly.

" _Careful… The Black Mamba is considered the most deadly snake in the world…_ " Even as Tom said this, Harry couldn't help but feel very relaxed with Zaccai sprawled over his upper body. Maybe he was wrong about having a snake, is was quite nice. And if he could hide him under his clothes he could very easily sneak him into the orphanage, he just needed to get past the door, no one bothered him in his room anymore.

He finished his ice cream and went to collect his wand, Zaccai still wrapped around him comfortably. He walked in the shop, to have Ollivander rush out immediately, even before Harry had pulled off his ring.

"Ah, Mr Potter, here we are. 11 inches, Blackthorn, Phoenix Feather." He held out a a darkly tinted wand, with a ball-like rounded end, and a sharp tip. The handle had a twisting pattern in the polished wood, and a small swirly pattern followed from the top of the handle to the tip on each visible side of the wood. It was a very attractive wand, all in all.

Harry reached out to take it, and just as before, a small stream of green and gold sparks appeared from the end, but this time lacking the impossible levels of destruction. Speaking of, all the signs of his previous visit were gone completely, no exploded vase, no knocked over boxes, and no blackened, charred floorboards. And yet, there was still dust coating everything! It must be on purpose, surely? For some some of air of mystery?

As Harry began to be lost in his musings, Ollivander interrupted.

"So very curious." His pale eyes stared at Harry.

"What is, Sir?" Harry suspected that was his favourite word.

"The core of that wand, very particular, phoenix feather, now I remember that phoenix, and it was very strange. That phoenix gave two feathers. It just so happens that the brother of this feather is in the wand that gave you that scar." Ollivander was standing very close now, and Harry couldn't help himself from giving in to his curiosity.

"How? How did I get this scar?" Harry asked him, almost desperately, this man was very clearly not fooled by anything Harry was putting on, and this was something crucial that he would need to know, especially if it was connected to his fame.

"You don't know? Ah, Well, that would explain much. Well, just decades ago, a great wizard appeared. Now, understand this, he was great, but most certainly evil, and he brought with him years of vicious war, an age of terror from which all hope seemed lost." His face seemed to be reliving this time, as Harry stared at him, transfixed.

"One night, on Halloween, he went after your family, the Potters, in their home. They had been in hiding, protected by their friend, Sirius Black, but alas, he had betrayed them. No one really knows what happened that night, but they know he struck down your parents, and he came to you. No one knows how, but something about you stopped him that night. The only living thing found in the rubble of the house was you, your forehead marked with a lightning bolt scar. You are so well known in this world because of what you represent Mr Potter, and because of what you brought about." Ollivander finished his tale looking into the distance pensively.

Harry was reeling, trying to understand the new information, then it clicked. His nightmare, the green flash of light, the one that was so like when he killed Peter. But there were still things he was dying to know.

"What happened to Sirius Black?" Harry ripped Ollivander from his blank gaze.

"Ah, Azkaban, a truly cruel fate. The worst prison in the world." The old man seemed to feel sympathy for this man. Harry did not. He would remember this name; Sirius Black.

"Oh, one last thing. The name of the great wizard, what was it?"

"There are many that fear the name too much to speak it, but I will say it just once to tell you. His name was Voldemort." Ollivander seemed to internally shiver at the name.

"Anyway, " Ollivander continued briskly, shaken out of his previous mood, "That will be nine galleons Mr Potter, oh, and I would amplify the spell on that ring if I were you." He gave Harry a conspiratorial look as Harry handed over nine gold coins.

Harry felt much better leaving the shop, but still shaken over the story he'd just heard. He thought about it all the way back to the orphanage on the train, through dinner, and even when he went to bed.

With Zaccai comfortably dozing in his magically heated tank, and Hedwig perched on his over-head shelf, Harry lay, eyes wide open, on his lumpy, dirty mattress.

Who could blame him if he didn't sleep? He'd had a very busy day.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry sat in an empty compartment on the train, absently stroking Hedwig, who was perched on his lap. Zaccai was sprawled comfortably over his shoulders, and was vaguely looking through the window onto the platform, full of parents hugging children goodbye.

Harry was also watching one such family, a large group of redheads, all covered in freckles and, soot? Why were they covered in soot? Totally bizarre.

He had spent the past fifteen minutes since arriving at platform 9¾ watching every child, assessing them with his cold, acidic eyes. That girl was arrogant, that boy was nervous, that boy was weak. It was really quite entertaining, which was good because Harry had already gone through his textbooks, obsessively learning the information in advance.

When he had arrived, he saw Malfoy climb daintily onto the train with some friends, undoubtedly childhood friends. Harry had decided not to follow after him, he was sending a very clear message, he would not be the one to chase Malfoy, and he was certainly not going to be the only one in the compartment that wasn't already acquainted with everyone. By cutting in on a tight-knit group of friends, he would be perceived as a natural outsider. He was not joining their group, they would be joining his.

The Red-headed family finally started saying goodbye to one another, with barely five minutes to spare. Just as four of the five children departed towards the train, he noticed the young girl, who previously appeared to be complaining about something to her parents, was staring at him.

Time seemed to slow for a moment as their eyes met, her piercing brown eyes fixed on his face, mouth slightly agape, and, for a second, they both seemed to have eyes only for each other.

Then the moment broke, and she tugged on her mother's hand, pointing towards him. The woman turned away from her disappearing sons for a moment to look at the center of her daughter's attention, her eyes also widening as she spotted him.

Too late to pretend to not have seen her, he waved awkwardly at her, which caused her to send him a kind smile, and a little wave back, before saying something to her daughter and turning back to her sons.

As the train began to move, the reduced family started running along with it, waving the whole time until the train finally turned a corner. With this, the sound of many children finally sitting down thundered across the carriages. After just a few moments of peace, Harry heard a small knock on the door, and turned to see the smallest ginger boy from before, sheepishly entering the compartment.

"Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full." He glanced around the compartment, not really looking at Harry.

"Of course." Harry gestured to the seat opposite him.

As he practically collapsed on the seat, the boy finally looked at Harry, and his eyes widened slightly as they focused on the huge scar covering his face.

"Wait, you're… are you?" The boy trailed off half way through his sentence, seemingly embarrassed by his small outburst.

"Harry Potter, and you?" Harry reached out to the boy.

"Ron, Ron Weasley. Sorry, I didn't mean to be weird, it's just, it's you, you know?" Ron shook the outstretched hand. Then he noticed the snake.

"Oh my god!" Ron ripped his hand away, backing into the seat.

"This is Zaccai, and I assure you, he is perfectly friendly." Harry stroked the reptile's head while he preened in parseltoungue.

"Really? Isn't he slimy?" Ron seemed unsure, leaning forward again slightly, not taking his eyes from Zaccai.

"I promise, I mean, I wouldn't have him on my shoulders if he was dangerous would I?" Ron appeared to accept this, relaxing once again, but still not moving his eyes.

"You can stroke him if you like, he really isn't slimy, he's quite soft." This was met with very wide, disbelieving eyes from the freckled boy, who, very, very, slowly, stretched his arm out, which Harry took. Harry guided the hand to a section of the lower body, well away from Zaccai's head.

The moment Ron's hand touched Zaccai, he calmed, slumping in the seat, and stroking Zaccai.

"Hey, you're right, he actually is soft, somehow." After a few minutes of Ron gently petting the snake, who was purring in parseltoungue by this point, Harry and Ron's conversation ventured into quidditch, which Harry was finding rather an interesting concept.

They continued on this this for hours, before a small looking woman appeared, trolley in tow, offering them sweets. Harry had not really had many sweets before, as he wasn't allowed any at the Dursley's, and never had the money for them at the orphanage, but damn if he wasn't going to buy all the sweets he could ever want right now. Especially after watching Ron produce a sad-looking corned-beef sandwich from his raggy hand-me-downs. This boy could be bought, and not with money, and not technically with sweets. This boy was lonely, and Harry was going to use it.

Which is why, as they covered the opposite seat with sweets, Ron's wide-eyed stare and grin towards him ignited something in Harry.

Power.

They sat for several hours more, stuffing their faces, Zaccai and Hedwig having been put away for some peace. The boys were discussing many things about magic and sports and other such topics, Tom helpfully adding things for Harry to use in the conversation, until there was another interruption, in the form of a bushy-haired girl with buck-teeth who, apparently, didn't know how to knock.

"Have either of you seen a toad? A boy called Neville Longbottom has lost one." She glanced between the boys, noticing the many sweets piled up around them. Noticing her gaze, Harry smiled at her.

"Would you like some?" Ha asked politely, gesturing at his pile of goodies. Unfortunately this did not receive the reaction he was expecting.

"No, and you really shouldn't eat all of those anyway, they'll rot your teeth, I should know, my parents are dentists. I'm Hermione Granger by the way." She wrinkled her nose at them, speaking in a condescending tone.

Harry immediately began to break down what she was saying. Her parents were dentists, which mean she was a muggleborn, there being no dentists in the wizarding world. She was, despite this, very arrogant. That meant she felt confident in this new world, and for that she must surely be very talented. This girl, despite her nature was someone that Harry could tell he wanted on his side.

"Well if you took some, we would eat less, wouldn't we?" He grinned at her again, showcasing his white, straight, pointy teeth. Then an idea stuck him.

"You could take some for Neville Longbottom, I'm sure that would cheer him up while he looks for his toad." He suggested.

Hermione seemed to think this over for a moment, before begrudgingly picking out a few chocolate frogs.

"That's very thoughtful of you, what's your name?" She turned to Harry first.

"Harry Potter." He shook her outstretched hand. She perked up at the mention of his name, but before she could go into a spiel about him, he directed her attention to Ron, who looked rather frustrated at being ignored.

"And this is my friend, Ron Weasley." Ron's face lit up at being called Harry's friend. Hermione turned to him briefly, smiling politely, before turning back to Harry, undoubtedly to talk about him, but, again, he halted her.

"What house do you think you'll be in?" Harry asked her, also looking at Ron, trying to make the discussion a group one. This successfully distracted her, as he watched gears start turning in her eyes.

"Probably Ravenclaw, but I might also go into Gryffindor, like Dumbledore." Luckily for him, neither of his companions noticed the dark look that flickered over Harry's face when she said that name. "What about you?" She turned to Ron, finally including him in the conversation.

"Definitely Gryffindor, my whole family has been in Gryffindor; my parents, all of my brothers, even my cousins and grandparents. It would be a real shock for me to be in anything else, especially _Slytherin_."

"What's wrong with Slytherin?" Harry was very glad Hermione asked that so that he didn't have to.

"I know a bunch of dark wizards have come from there, even You-Know-Who, but from what I can tell, it's more of a family thing, like how all of yours has been in Gryffindor. It just so happened that most of the evil families were in Slytherin at some point, and now most of them are, but that doesn't mean that all Slytherins are evil, does it?"

Ron seemed genuinely stumped by this, before responding carefully.

"I suppose not _all_ Slytherins are evil, but you said yourself, there are loads of dark families in there, and I was just saying it would be bad for _me_ especially, because the Slytherins would hate me for being a blood-traitor, and everyone else would hate me because they think I'm going dark. Either way, it's not for me." He crossed his arms, seemingly very proud to reasoned out his view of the world. Harry couldn't help but be slightly impressed himself. There was nothing more certain than an 11 year-old.

With that, Hermione seemed to remember why she was there.

"So you haven't seen a toad?"

"No, sorry, but we'll keep an eye out." Harry smiled at her, finally achieving a small smile back from her, before she turned around and left.

The rest of the journey went peacefully, as they changed into their robes and the sky darkened. Harry also pulled out a hat, hoping to cover his hair and some of his scar. It was a dark red beanie-like hat, the type that doesn't stretch; it was slightly too big for him, and it smelled like old people, but years of wearing donated clothes had taught him not to be picky, he just wished he had thought of buying a new one with all the money his parents left him.

The train finally came to a halt, and they exited, leaving their possessions behind, heeding the yelled instructions from outside. When they stepped onto the platform, Harry saw the tallest man he had ever seen. He was at least 7-foot, and had long, curly, dark hair, his face most mostly covered in a thick, equally long beard. The man held a lantern, and was the one bellowing out instructions to the first years, who all scuttled along towards him happily.

"That's Hagrid." Ron informed him, also staring at the man. "He's the Hogwarts groundskeeper."

Harry stayed towards the back to the group, not wanting to be recognised by everyone else there.

Although his hat covered the majority of his scar, the bottom of it peaked out, the small bolt reaching over his eyelid and cutting through his eyebrow being the most prominent part still visable. He looked weird, no one else wearing a hat, and certainly not this beanie-like hat, making him look very muggle. Fortunately, no one really noticed except for Hagrid, who only gave him a passing glance.

"Firs' years this way!" He yelled once more, walking off, all the students following after him like lost ducklings. They walked for a few minutes, before reaching a lake with several boats.

"Four to a boat!" Hagrid yelled again, the children all scrambling to get into groups, Harry finally being placed in a boat with two other boys and Ron. They all began to sail across the lake. As they turned a corner, the castle came into view.

Harry's heart skipped a beat. It was beautiful. It was _home_.

He stared at it, dumbfounded, for minutes, until they came close to shore. Everyone exited the boats excitedly and began the trek towards the castle, Harry still at the back with Ron.

After being guided through the castle by Hagrid, they reached the entrance hall, and were met by a very stern looking woman in emerald green robes. Her dark gray hair was pulled into a tight bun, and she bore a distinct resemblance to Mrs. Barnas, the woman that brought new children to the orphanage. After looking at all of them, she began to speak.

"My name is Professor McGonagall. The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up, and remove any hats," She looked at Harry's hat pointedly "while you are waiting." She glanced at several students, before turning and leaving through the the huge doors. After she left, chatter broke out among the students as they all smartened themselves up.

Harry wiped the soot away from Ron's cheeks, before looking himself over, and, only when McGonagall returned did he remove his hat, stuffing it in his huge robe pocket. After glancing at them, she motioned for them to follow her, which they did.

Harry stared in wonder at the great hall, watching the candles floating in the air, silently wondering how they dealt with dripping wax, before turning his attention to the ceiling, and almost gasping. The night sky loomed over him, the stars shining down through the darkness. Finally Harry reached the back of the grouped first years, all bunched up at the front of the hall.

He looked over the other kids, seeing a stool, on which was an old-looking hat, slumped over.

" _The sorting hat…"_ Tom reminded him. Yes, he knew that thank you very much.

McGonagall stood next to the stool, holding a scroll, and after a moment, she read from it.

"Abbot Hannah." A small, slightly chubby girl walked nervously to the hat. Her fringe hanging dangerously close to her eyes as she sat down, and the hat was lowered to her head, falling down to her nose, covering her eyes.

After a few seconds, a mouth appeared in the hat's folds, and it yelled out.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" McGonagall lifted the hat, and the now labeled girl skipped happily towards the cheering, clapping table. The sorting continued in alphabetical order until reaching "Granger, Hermione." Who took rather a long time, almost a minute in real time, before deciding finally on "GRYFFINDOR!". Conversely, the hat bearly touched the head of "Malfoy, Draco." Before screeching "SLYTHERIN!".

Finally it reached him.

"Potter, Harry." The hall was full of whispers, as Harry emerged from the crowd of first years, and he could feel every eye on him. Even the teachers watched with baited breaths and he ascended the steps, and as he sat down, the hall went silent, and the hat was placed on him, wrapping him in darkness.

"Potter eh? Oh wow, this is certainly interesting…" Harry heard a voice around him, as he violently twitched, visable to the great hall, unhappy at the intrusion of yet another voice in his head.

"This is a brilliant mind, Mr Potter, truly, a thirst for knowledge, power, loyalty. And so brave, you really could fit in anywhere you choose, but there is only one place tha-" The voice stopped.

"Oh. Oh my goodness. This isn't… That shouldn't be!" The hat sounded _horrified_ as it spoke, Harry felt flashes of memories being rifled through, and a burst of violent green light being replayed over, and over again. He felt the hat shudder on his head, unbeknownst to him, eliciting several whispers.

"You're not alone in here." It whispered now, completely horror-struck. "I can't- It's-" It sounded as though it was struggling, and he could feel the hat violently twisted and shaking on his head, whispers emanating from the hall breaching the all-encompassing darkness of the hat.

The hat, still jerking, whispered again, "Mr Potter, I- Good luck." Before it bellowed out the word.

"SLYTHERIN!" The moment it spoke, the hat was violently ripped from Harry's head, as it went limp in McGonagall's hand, she stared at it, and then again at him, eyes wide. Was that fear? Turning around, he saw the rest of the hall was in a similar state of shock and fear. Harry, for all intents and purposes, looked like a nervous 11 year-old boy, as he should, no one should suspect him of anything, and yet, everything was silent.

After a few moments of crushing stares and silence, the table on the far end of the hall began to clap, slowly and unsure, before Malfoy turned to the other members, clapping victoriously, and the rest of the table finally joined in.

Harry walked over to the table, sitting next to Malfoy, who moved up to make space for him. After a few moments of silence once the house stopped cheering, McGonagall seemed to recover, calling out the next name. The rest of the sorting was uneventful, Ron being sorted, as he expected, into Gryffindor, along with a miserable looking boy clutching a toad that was revealed to be Neville Longbottom. Harry could see a chocolate frog sticking out his robe pocket.

Meanwhile, Harry was interrogating Tom about what had happened with the hat.

" _It tried to remove me Harry… It tried to hurt me… I fought back…I'm sorry, I didn't…expect that to…happen…"_ Harry got the feeling that Tom was hiding something from him, but quickly shook the feeling off immediately; Tom had never hidden anything from him before in his entire life.

"Will the hat tell Dumbledore?" Harry asked, thinking the question to Tom quite worriedly.

" _No… the hat is charmed… to secrecy… otherwise the hat would be a very… dangerous weapon…"_ Tom assured Harry, sounding as though he was panting, as much as a disembodied voice can.

Harry calmed slightly. This could have been very bad, he could have been exposed, his plans ruined, but he was lucky. The hat was charmed to not tell anyone about the incident that had just occurred. Tom was still with him. People already seemed to be moving past the slightly weird sorting, and Harry was in Slytherin. He should really count this as a win.

As the sorting ceremony ended, an old man stood, his long white beard falling past his elbows, and the hall was silenced. This was him, Dumbledore. This was the man Harry hated with a passion, the man he would undoubtedly someday kill.

He began to speak.

"I would like to first welcome first years, to this school…" Harry tuned him out, only vaguely listening as he imagined the ways he could kill this man. He rambled on about the forest and the third-floor corridor. Wait? What? A 'painful and most horrible death?' That was certainly interesting. He would store that information away. The man finally started to wrap up his speech, finishing by saying some random words, to several confused faces.

"Has the codger lost his mind?" A scrawny-looking boy, Theodore Knott, to his left asked. This was met with some snickers by the older years sitting near them, as everyone started piling their plates with the freshly materialized food in front of them.

Harry ate a small amount compared to everyone around him, not used to eating so much food. He made himself aquainted with the faces of his peers, who all not-so-subtly stole glances at him throughout the whole meal. Suddenly, Malfoy seemed to realise he hadn't sucked up to Harry in almost twenty minutes.

"Harry, I didn't see you on the train, I thought you were going to join us?" Malfoy politely asked Harry, oozing passive-aggression.

"I was sitting with some other friends." Harry bit his carrot. Let Malfoy realise there was competition, and his friendship was not a sure thing. It took all but a few seconds for Malfoy to catch up and make a another, more useful, move.

"Well, allow me to introduce you to some acquaintances of mine; This is Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and Theodore Knott," each child was pointed to in turn, as they nodded at Harry in greeting. "and this is Crabbe," Malfoy pointed to the gargoyle-like boy beside him, "And Goyle." The ogre-like boy in front of him gave a little wave.

After it appeared that Malfoy was finished introducing his closest friends, Pansy cut in; " And this is Milicent, Daphne, and Tracy" She pointed to three more girls, who were each glaring at Malfoy.

"Harry Potter." Harry nodded to the circle, before continuing to eat noncommittally. This was apparently not received very well, as Pansy immediately took advantage of her seat next to Harry by asking him the questions that clearly burned on everyone's minds.

"So, what happened with the hat?" A bad attempt at subtlety that the snake-adoring house would surely nurture. Harry acted totally unphased.

"What do you mean?" He asked, not looking up.

"You took so long!" Theodore exclaimed, sounding rather exasperated. "Well over a minute!"

"That isn't too long, Granger took nearly a minute."

"Yeah, but the hat was acting so weird, like it was screaming." Milicent butted in. Harry put down his cutlery, having finished eating, and looked up, staring her dead in the eyes.

"I have no idea." Harry smiled, with the air of someone who was making a terrible threat. Everyone turned back to their food, Milicent staring at her plate for the rest of dinner. No one bothered him with any more questions throughout the evening.

As bedtime was announced, the prefects began to herd the first years along the corridors, pointing out particular classrooms and areas along the way. They finally reached a large circular door, decorated with a large metal snake.

The prefect turned to the first years and informed them that the current password was "Serpentine" and that the password would change every fortnight.

The moment Harry stepped foot into the Slytherin common room, he felt comfortable. It felt right. As though he had been there for all his life already. The dim green-tinted light illuminated marble walls and flooring. The centre showed several uncomfortable looking sofas and coffee tables, and there were several bookshelves lining the opposite wall.

To both the left and the right of the entrance door, in the corners of the room, there were two circular raised areas. These areas sported a pale green carpet, and several more, slightly more comfortable-looking sofas and armchairs, and the whole wall section lined with many more books.

While the first years admired room, Harry noticed a tall, shadowy figure lurking behind one of the many marble pillars. He was dressed in all black robes, and had long, dark, greasy hair. After a moment, the man noticed Harry was looking at him, and began walking out of the shadows towards the group of children. For a second, Harry's immediate instincts kicked in, and he prepared to shoot the man down, hand at the ready, before Tom practically screeched at him.

" _He is a teacher! Do not reveal yourself!"_

Harry quickly lowered his hand, hopefully before the man noticed, and stood to attention. After a moment, the other children turned to see the man as well, with much less trepidation than Harry had shown. Clearly some of the others had seen this man before. Of course! He must have been at dinner, Harry cursed himself for not paying attention.

Finally, the man spoke, looking over them with black eyes over a long, hooked nose.

"I am Professor Snape. I teach Potions class, and I am your head of house. This means that if you have any issues, you will take them up with me. I will not tolerate nonsense in this house, and any troublemakers will be greatly punished." He stopped, looking at Harry again, before continuing to speak in the same slow, deliberate tone.

"If you experience any personal disagreements with other members of this house, I expect you to solve them, if you experience any problems with schoolwork, I expect you to get help from the older years. There will be no fighting with members of other houses, and I do not care 'who started it' because all students will be punished. Rise above it, you are part of a noble house, act like it."

"The dorms are down those stairs, boys to the left, girls to the right. Password changes are posted on the announcement board a day before the change, so there is no excuse to forget it. My office is beside the potions classroom, just two corridors away. If there is an issue that requires adult intervention that is where you will find me." With this, he turned to leave, robes billowing after him, rather like a giant bat.

After a few seconds of stunned silence, the group dispersed, chattering among each other as they filed down their separate staircases.

Entering the first years boys' dorm room, Harry realised with dread that he would have to share a room. Not just with one other boy, or even two, but all five. Harry's possessions stood by the door along with, presumably, the other boys' things. Thinking quickly, Harry grabbed his case and strode toward the furthermost bed, tucked into one corner, nearest the bathroom. He pulled out Hedwig's cage from his case, placing it on the windowsill. The window gave a rather lovely view of below the lake, much like an aquarium. After only a second more, Harry pulled out Zaccai.

" _Master! It has been long! Fresh, but cold."_ Harry silently charmed the floor around his bed to be warm with the flick of his wrist, placing Zaccai on the grey carpet. The sound of an inhale alerted Harry to the fact that the other boys were watching him.

"This is Zaccai. He's perfectly safe." Harry started unpacking his things.

"The letter said…" Blaise started, but Harry was getting rather tired now, and he just wanted to go to bed.

"The letter said that students may bring owls, cats, or toads, and did not anywhere say that one cannot bring a snake." After a second, this logic seemed to click with the others, who were obviously torn between being impressed and being angry that they hadn't thought of it first.

Harry went into the bathroom to change, as he still liked his privacy, Tthank you very much'. It was actually a rather good set-up, four showers, four toilet stalls, and a row of three sinks totally assured Harry that sharing a room with five other people would not ruin his personal hygiene.

Padding out again, he was too tired to deal with the glances from the others, and clambered into bed, pulling the silk blankets up, and, with another wrist flick, closing the curtains.

Thanks to the curtains of course, Harry did not see the terrified looks of the occupants of the room, who all shared glances with each other.

Because just like that, with the flick of a wrist, Harry had established something very important.

Once again; Power.


	5. Chapter 5

Hey so i'm back, i know it's been a while, but life's been getting in the way. luckily for y'all i have corona so here we is, the next chapter! If anyone's still there say holla in the comments ! :)

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Harry woke up early for his first day, (his body-clock was used to waking up at 6:30 for school anyway), and took advantage of his sleeping roommates to shower and prepare for the day early. The facilities, despite not running on electricity, were _much_ nicer than those at the orphanage, and Harry certainly would not miss sharing with everyone else on the hall. Harry took the time to attempt to tame his hair, if only just for the first day, good impressions and all.

After twenty minutes of furious attempts at charms Harry accepted the less knotty, but still rather tussled look, it could pass for very curly. He also fed Hedwig and Zaccai with the packaged mice he had caught and killed himself. He had been doing Madam Nelson a favour really. Although the companions were also decently satisfied with the packaged pet food Harry had also picked up, he knew they wouldn't be content with that alone.

Sitting on his windowsill, flicking through one of his already dog-eared textbooks, he wondered if there was anywhere he could buy rats or mice, he doubted Hogwarts had any running about, unless they were pets of course. Although, what with all the other neglects of hygiene in favour of aesthetics he had seen in the wizarding world, there was probably a chance, right?

Speaking of aesthetics, Harry looked out into the lake through his window, he found himself entranced with the green water, for one, it was clean. Beautiful water unmurky from pollution and full to the brim of creatures of all assortments, none of which Harry could see from here of course. They probably didn't want to interact with the likely infuriating young students of the school, and honestly, Harry could sympathise.

Almost by magic, his roommates began to wake at that exact moment. They weren't exactly cutting it late; 7:30, half an hour before breakfast, but based on the boys' appearances, some of them had much longer routines than Harry. Upon seeing Harry already awake and dressed, Malfoy rubbed his eyes almost cartoonishly.

"You're already up." He said rather pointlessly.

"I like to start the day early." Harry answered as un-condescendingly as possible.

"Will you wait for us for breakfast?" Malfoy got out of bed, leaving his sheets unmade. Clearly far too privileged.

Harry thought about this for a moment. He wanted to make Malfoy work for an alliance, he didn't want to be the person that gave in, but this boy had clearly never worked for anything in his life. There was a limit to what any person would do, and this boy's limit was far shorter than most. Harry would have to meet him halfway eventually and concede.

"Yes, of course." Harry smiled politely. This was met with an obvious wave of relief from the blonde, who immediately scrambled to the bathroom. "Just don't take too long." Harry yelled over his shoulder. Malfoy nodded without looking as he disappeared into the bathroom. Harry returned to his book while he waited, but he wasn't really reading it. He'd already learnt it off by heart, it was the one subject he was really looking forward to; Potions.

Harry had been using his magic for years now, and although he lacked the names, the technical uses, and the wizarding knowledge about many things, he already had a basis in any spell-based subjects, but not potions. There had never been any opportunity to really get into them, and he was thrilled to be getting a chance at brewing. He also wouldn't _dare_ go into a class in which he was not one of, if not _the_ , most-skilled student.

"You like reading?" Theodore interrupted him, clearly being the last one to the showers, missing his chance.

"Not especially. Books can be entertaining, definitely, but I prefer to read something I can gain knowledge from. This is the potions textbook, I find that fiction is often more disappointing and always less useful." Theodore looked slightly taken aback by that, but continued bravely.

"Yes, well, sometimes it can be nice to just relax with fiction I find. Maybe you just haven't found a good story yet?" He tried.

"Can you suggest any good ones?" Harry was certainly entertained by this misinterpretation of what he had very clearly explained. Misreading Harry's entertainment for genuine curiosity, the tall boy began listing off stories Harry had never heard of, likely wizarding tales.

" _I've read all of these books….they are ….not great."_ Tom mentally grimaced. Harry wouldn't bother reading them then. He could read one or two to gain this boy's favour, perhaps even learn something about him.

"So which one is your favourite?" Harry cut in.

"Hm? Oh well, I'd have to say ' _The Eagle's Pride'_ , it's always been my favourite, it's about this prince who-"

"Oh, don't spoil it, I'll have to look for it in the school library." Harry smiled as kindly as he could, and silently cheered when Theodore grinned back at him.

"Oh, um, I know Draco introduced me last night, but I'm Theo, just in case you'd forgotten." He smiled rather sheepishly. Why did everyone Harry had ever met believe that he had some sort of short-term memory dysfunction?

"Of course I didn't forget, what do you take me for?" Harry tried to come of as fakely-indignant rather than actually annoyed, and from the smile he was met with, he could tell he had succeeded.

Just then, the four other boys filed out of the bathroom door, fully-dressed and ready, checking his watch, Harry realised they had been quicker than he thought, it was only 7:50. Theo ran to the door to quickly prepare while the others politely waited by the door.

When they finally arrived at breakfast, no one else was there. It was only eight in the morning granted, and most preferred to have a half hour lie in rather than an hour-long breakfast.

The few students in the hall were mostly first and last years, and many of which that were Slytherin and Hufflepuff. The teachers of course were mostly present, and Harry took the opportunity to scope out the faculty, a chance he had missed last night.

There was the very tall man, Hagrid, whom he recognised, he was the groundskeeper wasn't he? Harry would put himself in Hagrid's favour, groundskeepers are the most useful people to be friends with. Back at the orphanage Harry was always polite to the groundskeeper Mr Knights. He always stopped to ask him how he was, wish him a nice day, etc. In return, Harry noticed the gate from the orphanage garden into the woods was often left unlocked, meaning Harry no longer had to maintain his acrobatics act as long as he didn't stay out too late. It was shocking how little people needed to do to be nice. Perhaps this man could even get him fresh rats?

The next teacher he recognised was Quirrell, the turbined man that had likely tailed Harry through Diagon Alley, at least until Harry had put his enchanted ring on, he was sure that had shaken the man off. Even if it hadn't, all the man had seen was him going about his shopping as normal. Nothing to worry about there, but the man did seem to have a rather sneaky air to him, his behaviour in Diagon Alley was far too suspicious, as though he was more savvy than he liked people to think. Harry would be careful with him.

Then Harry noticed McGonagall, the seemingly strict teacher that had taken the first years into the great hall for the first time. He had a feeling she would be a good teacher, which wasn't really an explainable feeling, but he knew he was looking forward to her lessons.

Then there was Snape, the potions master and his head of house. Snape had the same sort of strictness as McGonagall, but Harry didn't have the same feeling of excitement at the thought of being taught by him. The man seemed to have a shroud of depression clouding his every move. Even now, as he sat silently surveying the hall, a single mug of what Harry had to assume was black coffee sitting in front if him. He looked as though he was plotting a gruesome murder.

Dumbledore was missing, Harry noticed, the head chair vacant. He couldn't help but notice how throne-like the chair was, and stamped down feelings of rage at this man's arrogance going unpunished.

After spreading marmalade on his toast he also studied the other teachers, a rather short, friendly looking man, a portly, roughed up middle-aged woman, and an owl-like hippy woman. There were certainly only a few teachers for so many students, maybe only some actually took breakfast with the others? Speaking of, Harry would need to find the Staff Room soon. Dumbledore had to sign his extra forms for school, the 'extra paperwork' Madam Nelson was worried would be a deal-breaker.

As the hall filled up, Harry couldn't help but notice that everyone was staring at him, whispering. Looking around, he noticed people turned away embarrassed at being caught gawking. He really didn't like that. Didn't they have something better to do?

He was far more used to being ignored, that was his safe space, where he could work in peace. It had always been easier for everyone to ignore Harry, especially Harry. He tried to tune it out as he ate small bites of his toast, making idle chat with his housemates.

Harry was tuning everything out so much he almost missed Ronald tapping him on the shoulder. Turning around with a smile, he saw Ron looked rather anxious.

"Call I talk to you for a minute?" He asked quietly eyeing the surrounding Slytherins, who had all stopped their conversations.

"Of course." Harry got up, following him out of the hall, to the disbelief of the green-robed children.

"What is it?" Harry wondered what this was about, had Ron reconsidered his friendship now that Harry was in Slytherin?

"Well, it's just, you know, what with everything I said yesterday about…Slytherin, I was just hoping, well, wondering if-" Ron seemed to really be struggling here, but Harry understood. Ron had been thinking _Harry_ had reconsidered their relationship.

"Ron, what you said yesterday was, factually, more or less correct. You shouldn't feel embarrassed for telling the truth. I like you, and I hope we won't let something as stupid as houses determine something as important as our friendship." At every word, Ron seemed to calm down, relief showing on his face.

"Yes well… I'm glad to hear that." He looked far less red now, which Harry took as a victory.

"Now, do you have your schedule yet?" Harry asked, changing the awkward topic.

"Yeah, I have Charms first, what about you?"

"I'm still waiting for Professor Snape to hand them out, but I'll hopefully see you there." They started walking back into the hall.

"Yeah, see you there." Ron gave a little wave as he returned to his table, and Harry to his. When Harry saw the faces of his housemates, Harry knew he was going to have a little problem.

"Why were you talking to a Weasley?" Malfoy wrinkled his nose in disgust.

This would be extremely annoying. Malfoy didn't like Ron, and Harry would place his bets on Ron not liking Malfoy. The problem was Harry actually _liked_ Ron. He was probably one of the most bearable people Harry had ever met so far, but Malfoy was just so much more _useful_. Ideally they could balance each other out, and of course, only an idiot would say Ron had no use at all.

From what Harry could tell, there were two main groups of people in the wizarding word, and though they really weren't defined, some people liked to use the words Dark and Light to identify them. They were political parties by no means, but the titles made references very simple. Malfoy was powerful with the dark, just as Ron was powerful within the light. All the other 'dark' kids flocked to Malfoy as their (current) leader, while Ron had already made three other, very probably 'light' aligned friends, and had a large enough family Harry would put money on the fact they held influence somewhere along the line. The best way to use them both is to use them against themselves and force them to get along.

"He is a friend of mine, why?" Harry nonchalantly asked.

"He's a dirty blood-traitor!" Malfoy spat.

Perhaps that wouldn't work. What Harry was dealing with was a boy that had been trained into a mind-set since birth, and he could only imagine the same of Ronald after their long discussion the previous day. It would take years of constant persuasion to change either one's mind. What Harry really needed was a buffer, someone that both people liked, that wasn't _him_. Harry wouldn't work even if he was the boy who lived, Malfoy wouldn't actually change his opinions for Harry, he would try to change Harry's mind instead. Harry pondered who he could use, but was saved from reacting to Malfoy's insult by a familiar bat-like man.

"Timetables." He spoke slowly and deliberately, and looked as though he was trying to talk without moving his lips.

A chorus of 'Thank you professor' later and they had more or less dropped the 'blood-traitor' argument, comparing timetables. Harry was pleased to see that he shared charms with Ron, in fact, the Slytherins seemed to share all of their lessons with the Gryffindors. Considering the historical rivalries, this was either a cruel joke, an evil plan, or poor scheduling, but either way it allowed Harry to continue his effort of gaining as many 'friends' as possible.

Yes, Harry viewed Hogwarts as a way of networking, he would build as many alliances as humanely possible, the best way to succeed in the adult world.

Harry had no idea what he wanted to be when he grew up, but he wanted every corner possible covered.

There was only one thing Harry knew he wanted to do when he grew up.

He was going to murder Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

Charms was pleasant, Harry had sat with the Slytherins, best to please them for the moment until he had a buffer. Ron had silently understood, sitting next to the chubby Longbottom boy instead. They hadn't actually been able to do anything, Flitwick instead lecturing them on the importance of pronunciation, which Harry and Tom alike laughed at silently.

Herbology had been much more fun, seeing the plants they would be caring for, and also getting an introductory session rather than actual work. After lunch, Harry finally met the ghost teacher that Tom had actually remembered being taught by.

" _They really should let him go.."_ Tom grumbled as the entire class, consisting of half of the entire year, fell asleep _._ Harry decided to find an older student and buy their old notes from this lesson rather than waste his time. He could use this period to get homework done instead. After waking up the rest of the class, he had headed to Defence against the Dark Arts, which had turned out to be horrifically disappointing, and rather difficult to listen to frankly.

Harry had nothing against stutters, but was there nothing in the wizarding world like a cure for it? It seemed rather inconvenient to employ someone like that in a lecturer position. Either way they all survived through the lesson, but Harry had noticed something rather odd.

His scar felt weird. Tingly almost. All through Defence his scar felt as though it had pins and needles. When he asked Tom about it, he had been met with an equally confused response.

" _It feels…tingly…"_ came the uncertain response.

It wasn't an unpleasant feeling by any means, but it was still rather strange.

Finally, potions came about. It was in the dungeons, very conveniently near the Slytherin common room. They had all filed in silently, while the cloaked professor stood at the front of the classroom judgmentally. Harry sat in front next to Malfoy, the table seemingly set out in pairs, probably for work activities. He immediately got out his notebook, muggle, but efficient.

Snape took the register, pausing, as had every teacher that day, on Harry's name. After the last name was called he began to speak;

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but Harry could hear each word – the entire class was silent, an achievement not many teachers could honestly claim to have.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Harry found the whole speech very condescending, and rather arrogant, and incredibly rehearsed as well, but nevertheless he scribbled every word Snape had spoken to him, copying the lecture precisely, just in case. This was, apparently, not the right move.

"Potter!" Harry snapped up, hopefully not looking too shocked. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"The Draught of Living Death sir, an incredibly potent sleeping potion." Harry answered mechanically. Snape didn't say anything, but he seemed to internally bristle. Was he trying to catch Harry out? Perhaps he didn't like Harry's fame, or perhaps he was just a bully, either way, he seemed rather unpleasant as a person. Harry stared into the miserable black eyes of the teacher, who turned away immediately.

"Longbottom. Where would I find a bezoar?" The nervous boy seemed to panic, while the girl from the train raised her hand quite violently.

After a moment or two of the boy shifting in his seat he practically whispered a response.

"I don't know sir." Snape gave a vaguely disgusted look at him, before turning back to Harry.

"And what about you Potter? Where would one find a bezoar?" Hermione still jumping out of her seat behind him, Harry turned to again look the teacher in the eyes.

"The stomach of a goat sir. It protects against most poisons." Snape quickly ripped his gaze away, which was interesting. This man hated eye-contact. Harry could definitely use it to shut him up in future.

"Copy this out." Snape commanded, turning away from the class, and with the flick of his wand the blackboard began filling with instructions and ingredients.

Harry felt triumphant.

The rest of the class had gone uneventfully and Harry had taken the short walk back to the dorms alongside Malfoy and the other Slytherins. Fortunately they seemed to have forgotten about Ron and Harry's interaction that morning, and their had moved onto a new target.

"Did you see that girl?" Pansy asked with a mocking tone.

"Such a little know-it-all. OH PROFESSOR PICK ME!" Malfoy imitated her, jumping up with his arm in the air. "Classic half-blood." Zabini smirked. Harry just ignored them.

While the girl was very annoying, she was clearly quite able, but Harry would have to watch her closely to gauge just how useful she would be. It could turn out that she was worth more trouble than she was worth. Harry didn't correct Zabini, despite knowing her true heritage. These kids were absolute blood-purists, and he didn't want to set them up to dislike her more than they already did just in case he did want to add her to his circle of friends in the future.

Harry was still thinking about that small issue later, as he left dinner, this time alone. He had slipped away from the gaggle of serpents with the excuse of wanting to explore a little bit before bed. In reality he needed to talk to Snape about his extra paperwork, which Madam Nelson had reminded him of the morning he left. He had the documents neatly folded in his robe pocket, and began walking towards the dungeons. Snape had left very early from dinner, and Harry could only assume that he had returned to his office.

As he walked along the otherwise empty corridor, he bumped, rather unexpectedly, into Ron.

"Oh, hey Harry." He grinned at him.

"Hi Ron." Harry smiled. "How come you aren't at dinner?" Ron seemed like the type to not miss any meals.

"Oh, yeah, I had a nap after lessons and managed to almost miss it. Is it still on?" He looked hopeful.

"Yeah, I don't think they'll switch to dessert for another ten minutes."

"Brilliant!" Ron gave a blinding smile. Just then, Hermione came down the hall, causing Ron's smile to slightly dim. Interesting.

"Hello, have you also finished dinner?" Hermione asked both boys.

"Actually Ron hasn't gotten any yet, he was just on his way there." At this, Ron nodded in agreement, and after a small wave was on his way to grab the last of the roast potatoes.

"What about you?" She turned to Harry.

"I was just on my way to find professor Snape."

"Oh." She seemed a little bit disappointed, though for what reason Harry couldn't tell. "He's in Dumbledore's office. I saw them go in there together, I've been walking around finding where everything is since I finished dinner." She paused for a moment, creating what anyone other than Harry might've described as an 'awkward' silence. Harry decided to stop wasting time.

"Thanks, I'd better go find him." Harry politely smiled and walked away and, taking the cue, Hermione also began walking in the opposite direction. Clearly she didn't have any friends yet, or possibly ever. She seemed like a very lonely girl.

That could absolutely be weaponized. In fact, it seemed as though all Harry would have to do is be her first and only friend, and she'd be fiercely loyal to him and only him.

As he walked along the stretching hallways towards what Tom told him was the headmaster's office, he pondered Ron's reaction to Hermione. It had been quite negative, and he clearly didn't like her very much. Harry also thought back to potions class when Ron had made an annoyed face at her antics. Very interesting. He had a similar reaction to Malfoy.

Perhaps Harry been going about this all wrong. He had been looking for someone that both boys liked, but perhaps he should have been looking for someone they both _disliked_. Someone they had the same opinion of, someone that evoked a similar reaction from both of them, and someone that was 'politically neutral' in the wizarding world.

Hermione would be absolutely perfect.

* * *

" _Are you sure… You want to go to Dumbledore's office?"_ Tom asked, sounding slightly surprised.

"I won't be going inside, i just want to wait by the door so I can catch Snape on his way out." Harry reassured Tom. He didn't want to meet Dumbledore yet.

" _If you do see him…Don't look into his eyes…"_ Tom quickly added, as the large griffin statue came into view.

"Why?" Tom had never mentioned this before, it was a bit last moment.

" _I just remembered…He is a skilled legilimens…mind reader…"_ Harry panicked slightly, that was a pretty BIG deal that Tom had only just mentioned to him, and he was already outside. After barely a second Harry decided against the risk, and began walking away, he could find Snape later.

" _ **Come in Mr Potter."**_ The griffin spoke.

"Well fuck." Thought Harry, as he ascended the rotating stairs. He couldn't very well run away now, it would look too suspicious.

As he reached the door, he put up his fist to knock, only for the door to be opened abruptly by a sour looking Snape. Harry looked into the room, a rather comfortable looking office with various trinkets sitting on tables, bookshelves covering the walls, and near the back of the room the sat a desk, and behind it, sat the headmaster of Hogwarts. To his side sat McGonagall, Flitwick the charms teacher, and Sprout the herbology teacher. This was much worse than Harry had thought, it was a head of house meeting.

"How can I help you my dear boy?" Dumbledore's kind voice made Harry internally cringe. Here goes.

"Sorry sir, I was just waiting outside for Professor Snape." Harry stuttered out slightly, religiously avoiding eye contact, instead looking at the man-bat in question.

"Well I'm sure whatever it is it can wait." Snape grumbled, walking away from the door, leaving Harry standing in the doorway facing the teachers.

"Now now, Severus. What is it Mr Potter?" Dumbledore smiled, and Harry was forced to stare at his crooked nose, which most people couldn't tell wasn't their eyes when being looked at. Dumbledore would be able to tell, since he was a nosy old git.

"Um, well I have some extra paperwork for you to sign?" Harry pulled the papers out of his pocket. To the faces of slight confusion he added "For the orphanage?"

This apparently didn't help, as Dumbldore's smile dropped almost immediately, just for a split second, and the heads of houses had faces of utter puzzlement.

"Orphanage, my dear boy?" Dumbledore asked, sounding to Harry as though there was an underlying anger in his voice. Harry himself was now slightly confused, until it hit him. They didn't know.

"Where I live? Sorry, I thought you knew because it was on my letter." Harry explained, cursing himself that he had revealed information they didn't know before. He felt tricked. "You have to fill out the forms to say that you take responsibility for my safety etc." He again clarified.

"Ah of course." Dumbledore said, in a calm voice that Harry could tell was fake. He was panicking. "Unfortunately the quill that writes the letters is automated, we don't have the time to write out every single one. May I ask how long you've lived there, my boy?"

Harry absolutely hated being called that. It was just the same as his uncle calling him 'boy'. Adding an extra word or two and saying it in a different tone didn't change a thing.

"Since I was about six I think? I don't really remember exactly. Sorry" Harry was doing his best to act shy and slightly abashed, which wasn't difficult, looking at the faces of the teachers. Sprout and Flitwick looked slightly shocked but overall not upset, more as though they didn't really know what was happening. McGonagall's lips had turned into a thin line on her face, and seemed to be concealing…rage? Bizarre. Snape was staring at Harry intensely, his black eyes boring into Harry's skull. Just in case, Harry decided not to look at anyone's eyes for the moment, until they had been cleared as mind readers.

"Ah. I see." Dumbledore smiled shortly. Harry took advantage of the pause to walk over and drop the documents onto Dumbledore's desk.

"If I can come and collect them later sir I'll post them back." Dumbledore seemed to break out of his trance of staring at the pile of paper by looking back at Harry, still smiling. How infuriating.

"Not to worry my dear boy, I can post them for you. I assume the name of the establishment is on your letter?" Harry nodded reluctantly. "Then I can have them sent off myself. Not to worry. Thank you my boy, I shall get onto this once our meeting concludes." Harry again nodded and began to leave as quickly as possible.

"Thank you sir." Harry said, taking once last glance at the group and he noticed something. Dumbledore was looking at him with…what? Was that fear? Apprehension? Whatever it was, his calm demeanor had been utterly shaken off, now replaced by something more sinister. With a polite nod from Dumbledore, Harry left, closing the door behind him, and walking as fast as he could without running back to the dungeons.

" _You did well…"_ Tome piped up.

"No I didn't, I revealed potentially crucial information without needing to, and now everyone is suspicious of me!" Harry snapped back internally. After a moment of quiet, Tom spoke up again.

" _Only Dumbledore harbours suspicion towards you…I know it is not…ideal…you didn't know…it was unavoidable…he would have discovered it eventually…better for it to happen now as you tell him…he would be much more suspicious if you kept it from him…this is good…"_

Harry had to admit that this was likely true, and perhaps it wasn't as bad as he thought, but his pride had taken a small hit. He certainly wasn't going to spread his living situation around school. People didn't need to know.

He climbed into bed that night after some small talk with his doormmates and felt the comforting warmth of Zaccai sliding up his leg. Harry had charmed his curtains to be soundproof so he could talk to Tom and Zaccai freely.

As he told Zaccai about his day, he missed Hedwig, who had been moved to the owelery for the time being. He planned to summon her every morning at breakfast however, to maintain contact.

" _Oh master! Zaccai has such good day!"_ Zaccai happily hissed back at him. " _There is many, many pipes for Zaccai to run free_!" He exclaimed gleefully. " _Hogwarts very very good!"_

Harry smiled, happy in the knowledge that he wasn't the only one enchanted with the castle, despite its residents.

As the excitable snake began telling Harry the passages and pathways of the castle, Harry felt himself drifting to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

One of the things Harry had always liked about his scar was the way it made people look away. Ever since he could remember, people would look at him, glancing to the disfigurement, and briskly turn away, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. It had became a rather prominent issue when he was about 7, when his scar had started to slowly fracture further down his forehead, like a live-action lightning strike. He didn't know why it did that, but he assumed it was something to do with magic. It wasn't noticeable if you saw it every day, but after long enough it was visibly larger than before.

It was always the same, with other children, teachers, anyone that Harry encountered would go through the same tedious cycle; eyes, scar, shock, avoid. He had found that it caused some people to downright despise looking at his face, once a substitute maths teacher had even sent him outside the classroom the remainder of the lesson. The man had seemed incredibly disturbed by it, actually. This utterly thrilled Harry. The less he had to deal with people, the better. It had given him an edge in the orphanage, rumour after rumour eventually reaching him about the origins of his scar. Unsurprisingly for an orphanage, the majority of ideas usually had something to do with his parents, which was technically correct, though he wouldn't be awarding any prizes any time soon.

An additional side effect was the soft looks he sometimes received from those 'good' types. The looks from people that feel pity for him, and no doubt imagine all the horrible things that Harry must have endured to look like _that._ These reactions were equal parts annoying and useful for Harry. He often remembered the kind librarians at the local public library Harry would sneak off to occasionally on weekends. They would always check up on him, to the point Harry was almost concerned one of them might try to adopt him at one point, but fortunately for him they didn't. It came close with that one volunteer they had one summer, but luckily Madam Nelson had likely dissuaded any efforts made by anyone asking after him. Either way, his scar had always awarded him with peace and quiet.

Harry was finding that, unfortunately, this was very different in the wizarding world. For the past few weeks, people had spent far too long staring at him, especially his scar. They were completely obsessed with it! He couldn't understand for the life of him why they stared for so long, it wasn't likely to change _that_ fast.

Perhaps the stares would have been easier to deal with if it weren't for the whispers that accompanied them. The students that would look to him, then turn back to one another and whisper in such serious tones that Harry couldn't fathom what they were discussing. Harry had of course encountered this before back at the orphanage, what with his reputation, but not on anything like this scale of several hundred people at once. He didn't think there was really that much to whisper about anyway, he had been lying quite low since he'd arrived here; well, as low as one could lie given the circumstances.

Harry had had to fight the urge to start covering his scar with what little fringe he had, he was _not_ going to be controlled by something as pathetic as _peer pressure._ So every day he had come up to meals with the other slytherins, ignoring the glances and vacant expressions of what the wizarding world considered legal adults, which was just so disappointing wasn't it? These students, some of them, were old enough to be considered adults, and here they were; staring at a child.

His scar had always been a weapon for him, he knew what people were like, they all looked away from things they didn't like, and they pretended not to see things they didn't want to. They would never bring something that sensitive up, this was Britain for god's sake. In the wizarding world, this wouldn't work for a few reasons, but mainly the implications behind the scar. For muggles, it was some horrid story, something one wouldn't want to bring up or talk about, some sort of sob story about an abusive father with a belt buckle that strayed too far. Something like that. For wizards, it was a symbol, it represented the end of a war, and the feelings of hope and light that came with this shift. He could only imagine how many people had drawn similar scars onto their own foreheads for Halloween costumes, pretending to be him, because that's really what Harry was here: a symbol. He wasn't real to these kids, he was some celebrity their parents had told them bedtime stories about, or some name from a history textbook.

While many would dream of achieving such recognition, it just just pissed Harry off. He was more than just a name, a figure, a symbol. He was _so much more._ That's why he was met with such rudeness here in the castle, where he was just some spectacle to be observed, he wasn't real to them. He would have to change that.

"You alright Harry? You look even more grim than usual." Theo asked him, swallowing a spoonful of cornflakes rather violently.

Pulled form his musings Harry looked around, seeing that a few others in the group were watching him with slight concern. The kind of concern one gives a dog with a muzzle.

"Yeah, just tired. I was writing that essay for Flitwick until rather late last night." Harry easily lied. Although he had sacrificed a few bedtimes in the past weeks of schooling, he would never stoop to lose _that_ much sleep.

With the anxieties of an enraged Harry blowing off the handle suddenly and violently, the slytherins returned to their food, not disengaging totally, but no longer regarding him with apprehension. It was almost frustrating how well his intimidation tactics in the first few days had worked.

"That's a shame, maybe you can nap during Binns' class, you'll need your wits about you for our first flying lesson." Theo remarked, still shoveling cornflakes into his mouth at a rate a normal person would deem polite, but to the elite snobs of the green house was practically savage.

Ah yes, definitely something to look forward to at least. Harry couldn't wait to see what flying was like, practically every muggle child had the deep desire to fly at some point in their life. Harry was no exception.

He had often stared out the window of his small room, wishing he could just jump out and fly around the treetops at the end of the garden. Even the feeling of the jumps on and off of the imposing garden wall had sometimes entertained him for much longer than he would have liked to to admit, sneaking out after dark to jump like some sort of demented squirrel.

Tom had told him that he remembered there was a way to fly without a broomstick, which only filled Harry filled joy. He had never been on a broomstick, and he had nothing to compare to, but flight without the aid of a breakable piece of wood sounded much more enjoyable to him.

His thoughts were once again interrupted, this time by the arrival of the post. Harry was surprised to see that _he_ had post. Him! He had no idea who wad trying to write to him, but he saw not one, but two envelopes. As Hedwig landed neatly on his shoulder, having dropped his letters on his lap, she began affectionately pecking his hair, as though trying to straighten feathers. While cute, this was surprisingly painful, and he gave her some ham from the platter in front of him to distract her. This entertained her for long enough to cease assaulting him and to have breakfast.

He looked at each letter, which were both much closer to being notes than actual letters, each one a scrawled paragraph or so. The first was signed from Ron, and it read :

 _Hey Harry,_

 _I was just wondering if you could sneak away from the others tonight and we could go hang out together? I know we see each other plenty but it feels like we never get to talk properly. If not, that's fine, but just nod or shake your head when you get this and I'll know. If yes, meet me in the trophy room after dinner._

 _See you soon, hopefully._

Harry glanced across the hall, and after a moment, managed to catch Ron's eye. He quickly nodded, and turned away before anyone could see him, but not before redhead could shoot a grin his way. Harry hadn't managed to get much one-on-one time with Ron in the past few weeks of school, Draco always seemed to be trailing after him, or if not him, Theo, or one of the others. Harry might have considered it friendly, had it not been obvious that these children had been well-briefed by their parents on how to treat him. They just wanted to use him. Ah well, at least he could spend some time with Ron later. Ron was just so _easy_.

Harry turned to the other letter at long last.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _My name is Rubeus Hagrid, Groundskeeper of Hogwarts. I know that we haven't actually met, but I was good friends with your parents and I did know you when you were little, and I was wondering if you wanted to come for a cup of tea Friday afternoon? I understand if you don't, but I would be nice to catch up. My Hut's down near the forest edge._

 _Yours,_

 _Hagrid_

The message was written in a barely legible scrawl, but Harry managed to make it out. He quickly scribbled a message back.

 _Dear Hagrid,_

 _Yes, that would be lovely. I will be along after classes, if that's ok? It's nice of you to write to me._

 _See you soon,_

 _Harry_

Attaching the note to Hedwig, she finished eating the various scraps Harry had been handing her absentmindedly, and flew off. When he checked, the groundskeeper was nowhere in sight, which meant he was likely at his hut.

There were several reasons Harry had accepted his invitation, in fact Harry could scarcely believe that he had been so lucky that Hagrid had reached out to him, since Harry had been planning on it regardless. It was an added bonus that this man knew Harry's parents. With any luck he'd be able to get Harry some more rats, as Zaccai claimed the ones Harry gave him had been dead too long. He put some stasis charm on them but apparently they weren't up to scratch for the fussy serpent. Harry needed a solution fast.

Harry enjoyed his first ever post from real people, the only other time was his Hogwarts letter. It felt nice. He was going to have to sneak away a few times though, until he could convince his friends to get over their beliefs of blood purity. Saying he was going to the library didn't work, every time he used that excuse the others followed him and he ended up studying instead. Ah well, he'd think of something.

* * *

He sat, only half-focused through that day's lessons, not that this would severely affect his grades, he could catch up from the textbooks later. All he could think about all day was the chance to fly. _Really fly._ When it finally rang 3:30, Harry practically raced to the grounds, losing slight decorum in his speed. The other slytherins at least seemed to share his enthusiasm, most missing the ability to fly free reign in the sanctity of their own homes. Draco hadn't shut up all day about his extensive skill when it came to flying, which had only slowed down time in Harry's long wait. He desperately wished he hadn't mentioned he'd never flown before, but it was a direct question he hadn't expected them to have the perception to ask.

While most of the group seemed pleasantly excited to get back onto a broom, there were a few that seemed less keen, Theo for one seemed very apprehensive, and Zabini showed outright disdain for the whole ordeal.

They had been scheduled to have the lesson with the gryffindors, just like seemingly every other lesson. While this gave Harry a chance to see Ron again, it meant that the class was uneven. Their whole year group was absolutely minuscule; likely a result of the war which had been worsening every year until the death of Voldemort, as Harry had discovered through vigorous research in the library far from prying eyes. Their year group had barely 50 students, the majority of whom were in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, with Gryffindor as the smallest house since the opening of the school, according to 'Hogwarts: A History'.

The result of this was that when they lined up opposite one another in their respective houses, Madam Hooch had tusked rather annoyed.

"Oh no, this won't do. The lines are far too uneven. You!" She barked at Harry, who was at the front of the queue of slytherins. "Move over there!" She directed him next Neville, who stood pathetically at the front of the gryffindors. This was met with sneers from the snake house at the thought of one of their own being separated from them, and reciprocated frowns from the gryffindors at the unwarranted aggression. The slytherins still had an extra person, but there wasn't much more she could do.

"Right, now hold your hand above your brooms and say 'Up'." Hooch commanded once she seemed pleased with the arrangement of students.

Harry did so, and his broom shot into his hand at once. His was one of the only few to do so. He looked around at the other students, most of whom were struggling to grab their broom, bouncing barely a foot from the ground. Some students, like Hermione, Neville, and Theo, were morosely looking at their dormant floor-bound brooms. The only students that had managed to grab their brooms on the first go were Harry, Ron, Draco, and Tracy.

" _Broomsticks are much like horses…They can sense fear in potential riders, which tends to put them off…"_ How fascinating, Harry mused. Perhaps his enthusiasm would serve him in controlling the broom as well; supposedly they were difficult to control given their age. Although then again, he wouldn't be surprised if this was yet another snobbery on the part of the rich slytherin children. After a few minutes, when everyone had either roused their brooms up, (or shamefully picked it up when they thought no one was looking) Madam Hooch again turned to address the class.

"Right, swing one leg over, and mount the broom." The students followed her instructions quickly and she moved on. "Yes, good, now grasp the handle firmly, unless you want to fall off. Excellent. Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly." She looked around and readied her whistle. As she began counting down, the stress of the situation must have panicked Neville who jumped early, ascending quickly.

"Mr Longbottom come down at ONCE!" Hooch screeched at Neville, who had gone completely puce, and began ominously drifting to the side, not knowing how to control the broom. Harry, who didn't want his first flying lesson to be cut short because the idiot was going to crash and kill himself, quickly jumped off too. It didn't help that his panic responses tended to be rather, well, shit. Despite Hooch's secondary screech towards Harry, he couldn't turn back now, he had committed himself now. Hopefully he could grab Neville and pull him down before he went too far and anything major happened. Of course that was when Neville, seeing Harry coming towards him, leaned away, and went speeding off towards the castle wall. Internally sighing, Harry followed, matching his violent speed.

It became apparent that Neville was in no hurry to stop anytime soon, and Harry would absolutely have to intervene before the boy became a stain on the stone castle wall. Without moving his hand too much, he secretly sped himself up with his magic, so he was directly behind Neville, before pulling out his wand just in case anyone could see him, even from this height. He pointed it at Neville but ignored it entirely as he lightened Neville's body weight himself. With his other hand he grabbed the back of the other boy's robes, seconds before he smashed into the solid stone, ripping him from his broom and pulling the two of them up at the very last second as the other broom shattered under Neville. Harry, now turned around with a very light Neville hanging by his robes at Harry's left side and his other arm dangling wand in hand, began to fly back, shoving his wand in his pocket and once again grasping the broom tight.

When he landed it was to the many utterly astounded faces of the class. The gryffindors started cheering raucously as Harry dropped the now crying boy back to the floor, while the slytherins stared at Harry with shock and awe, and equal parts disgust and reverence. Disgust likely at making breaking the rules for the sake of a _gryffindor_ and reverence at, well, his success maybe? He'd have to investigate later, but for now he unmounted his broom, and turned to the pale face of Madam Hooch. Her face looked entirely emotionless. The students continued to cheer in ignorance of her building wrath, when suddenly she seemed to come back to life.

"Longbottom. Are you alright?" She asked, or rather screeched as she walked over to him and began assessing him, or rather letting him cry at her while he struggled to speak. It seemed as though she was dealing with the important part now, and saving Harry for later, which Harry was not as thankful for as he might've been. He was now internally cursing his nightmarish panic responses, and wishing he'd just let Neville break a few bones so they could continue the lesson.

" _This has won you favour with the gryffindors…Although it was horribly reckless…very gryffindor…"_ Tom chastised.

"Yeah, I know ok, it was a bad decision." Harry thought back, regretting everything.

" _I would be more concerned with where you currently are… That was right outside McGonagall's office window."_ Harry paled, realising now just what an awful mistake he had just made, and desperately wishing he could slink back into the shadows and disappear. As though reading his mind, which was entirely possible at this point, McGonagall came into view striding towards the class at an alarming speed. She must have practically run from her office.

Harry unsubtley tried to blend back into the group of green-robed of students as she began to talk in hushed tones with Madam Hooch, the majority of whom were still shooting incredulous looks at him. Malfoy, who was next to him had the most shocked expression by far.

"What in Merlin's name was that?" He hissed at Harry, quietly so no one could overhear.

"I didn't want him to get hurt and ruin the lesson." Harry responded honestly. It would be easier to the truth in this situation. Malfoy seemed to calm down slightly, hearing that Harry wasn't about to run to the other house. Or Harry suspected that was it. Malfoy was about to say something, but was cut off by McGonagall calling over to Harry.

"Mr Potter." That was all she needed to say, and Harry followed her quietly, enraged at himself for making enemies with such an influential teacher. She took him back towards the castle in total silence. Harry wasn't going to be the one to break it, he could tell he was already in enough trouble as it was, and he wasn't going to start anything else. He had been impulsive enough for today. She lead him back to her office, where they sat down, again, in silence. She looked over her desk at him. Her eyes immediately found his scar, but then she stared deep into his eyes, which really put Harry off, worried about another mind reader, but she quickly moved on, staring out the window.

As much as Harry didn't want to be the first to speak, he could tell that nothing was going to happen if no one spoke, and honestly he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

"Professor, I'm really sorry, but I saw Longbottom start flying up early, and he looked stuck so I just wanted to quickly grab him, but then he started flying so quickly and – " She silenced him with a hand gesture, cutting him off.

"Mr Potter please calm yourself. You are not in trouble." She turned back from the window to look at his eyes again, this time with something akin to sadness in her gaze. He must have shown some of his puzzlement on his face because she continued quickly.

"Madam Hooch and I discussed it, and we were both impressed by your actions greatly." She reached into her desk and pulled out a tin, which she opened and thrust at him, revealing biscuits. "Have a biscuit." It sounded much more like an order than an offer, and Harry delicately picked out a gingernut, taking a small bite. He could tell he probably looked completely bewildered, but made no effort to conceal this.

" _She's the head of Gryffindor…Is it really a surprise?"_ Came the sarcastic tone of Tom.

"Thank you." He politely smiled, thanking her for the biscuit. She seemed deep in thought.

They sat in silence for another minute or so, which Harry was quite comfortable with, if he wasn't in trouble he was going to wait and find out what she wanted with him. She was looking at him rather uncomfortably though, with a hint of sadness, and a thinly-veiled anger, though not directed at Harry, which was even more puzzling. She was a rather mysterious woman he supposed. He still didn't understand her rage at the discovery that he had been raised in an orphanage.

"Was today your first time on a broom, Mr Potter?" She cut into the silence abruptly. What an astute question, he hadn't though he'd been too bad, actually. Although he hadn't had much time to enjoy it, he had certainly felt exhilarated in the air, flying around. Hopefully he wouldn't be excluded from future lessons.

"Uh, yes Professor." He again answered honestly. Her expression didn't shift, but her lips thinned every so slightly.

"And the spell you cast on Longbottom, a weight reducing spell?" She didn't sound as though she was really asking.

"Um yes." He didn't bother trying to explain his choices to her, she seemed to already have made up her mind, and simply wanted to hear things from his own mouth. Perhaps to incriminate him? Well she had enough witnesses, including herself, who must have gotten a fairly good view if she was standing near the window. But she would have had to have been watching the lesson anyway to actually see anything, based on the way the window was placed. It wasn't an accident that she saw. Well, it wasn't that strange that the head of Gryffindor wanted to watch her first years' first flying lesson, especially when it was right outside her office.

"How did you and Longbottom come to be friends?" She asked. This surprised him a bit, and he briefly considered coming up with a lie, but couldn't see a reason to just yet.

"Well, we aren't really. We haven't spoken that much at all actually. I don't really know him that well." He looked a bit sheepish, not wanting to give off the impression that he actively disliked Neville. She seemed to take this in, nodding slightly, but no real response.

Harry finished the biscuit he had been nibbling on, and McGonagall immediately thrust the tin at him once more, as though she had been itching to give him another for a while. Perhaps he had eaten it too slowly. Politely he plucked another and took a slightly larger bite than before. Is this what people meant when they talked about 'uncomfortable silences'? Because Harry was starting to crack under the piercing gaze of the professor with far too confusing emotions that Harry couldn't understand. They must have been sitting there for at least ten minutes now.

Finally, he heard the door open, only to see Madam Hooch, who gave McGonagall a thumbs up, before once again disappearing. At this, McGonagall seemed to come alive again, finally.

"Mr Potter. I mentioned that both I and Madam Hooch were impressed with your actions. You saved a distressed student from potentially extensive harm, and displayed impressive flying skills while doing so. You also executed a very impressive display of magic, as well as logic skills. That spell, if I'm not mistaken, isn't taught until third year, and isn't used on objects much bigger than a book until sixth year. I assume you've been reading up in the library?" She paused, expecting an answer. Harry hadn't even considered the difficulty of the spell.

" _Reckless…"_

"Uh, yeah, I wanted to make sure I knew everything for class, so I read a bit ahead." This response was met with an approving nod from the teacher.

"And I imagine you've been practicing these spells as well? I don't suppose Longbottom was your first attempt?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I've been practicing on my school supplies actually, because I wanted to carry all my books, just in case, but they were too heavy all at once." He blushed, the lie quickly forming in his mind. He would happily play the role of overexcited prodigy if that was what would save him from this nightmare. He needed to be careful in future, there was talented, and then there was suspicious. He may have already pushed that line.

"Well, Mr Potter, in recognition of your quick-thinking, in addition to your impressive abilities, we have a proposal for you." Before Harry could ask who 'We' was she pressed on.

"Although it is a rule at Hogwarts that first Years may not have their own broom, we are willing to make an exception for you, if you would like to try out for the Quidditch team." Harry gasped slightly. This was a slight overreaction wasn't it? He flew once, and all of a sudden he was allowed to play quidditch? Not that he was complaining.

"Madam Hooch and Professor Snape, your Head of House, have agreed, and Headmaster Dumbledore has permitted it. Well done Mr Potter." For the first time that Harry had ever seen her, she let a smile smile grace her features.

"Thank you professor!" Harry grinned back. For some reason, this made her smile widen slightly and her eyes saddened again. This woman was an _enigma_.

"I am informed the try-outs will be posted on the Slytherin common room notice board, so watch for it. The team captain will be informed of your circumstances, and will allow you to try out along with you upper-classmen. As much as I am loathe to see my own house lose yet another year, I wish you the best of luck." That raised another question, why would she be the one advocating for him? He was just some slytherin student to her, one who could apparently fly, but that was all. If anyone, Snape should be the one that wanted him on the team, but then again Snape would probably rather never see Harry again. He seemed to really dislike him.

"Thank you, Mr Potter, that will be all." McGonagall smiled at him, and Harry took his cue to leave, smiling as he did.

"Thanks again professor!" He shut the door behind him, and his smile instantly vanished. He made his way back down to the slytherin common room. Now he had to face his classmates, and reassure them he wasn't about to run away into the sunset with Neville. Despite his thrill at being able to join the quidditch team, he couldn't help but feel, not for the first time, he had made the absolute wrong choice in saving the gryffindor.

* * *

"Really ? You're allowed to try out for the team this young?" Draco asked, eyes wide. He perched on the edge his bed, next to Harry's, leaning forward in surprise. The two boys were alone, after Harry had explained the situation to his eagerly awaiting classmates and having received their praise he went towards their room to dump his bag and wash his hands, followed closely by the blonde boy.

"Yeah, I couldn't believe it either. She said I was really good, so Snape allowed it. But I won't get my hopes up, I'll be really out-skilled by all the older years trying out." Harry reminded him.

"But still, Snape agreed! That's huge, I know him, he'd my godfather, and it's so unlike him to agree." The blonde babbled on. Well if that wasn't useful information to have.

"Well I imagine that he probably just said I could try out to get rid of Madam Hooch. I don't think he actually thinks I'll make the team."

"What position do you want to go for?" Draco seemed really interested in the answer.

Harry desperately tried to recall all the positions Ron had described to him on the train.

"Probably a beater, or maybe the seeker." Harry wanted the chance to be able to do his own thing, which ruled out chaser, a position so heavily defined by teamwork. This was similar to the beater role, but one other person would be manageable.

"I would've had you pegged as a keeper to be honest."

"Oh, no, I would prefer to able to actually fly around, keepers are rather confined to their area. It's not the role for me." The role of seeker suited Harry's desire for solitude and his desire for action, which made it ideal, but he also knew how much focus was on the seeker in the game. The whole game could be won by a particularly good seeker.

"Well, as far as I know, the team has everyone re-try every year just to make sure they're up to scratch. Well except the captain. Theoretically you could go for any position you want. Montague's a chaser so you won't have to worry about not getting his place, especially if you don't like that role." Draco prattled on. Harry could only imagine how wide this boy's social network was, he knew who everyone was and how everything worked. Harry had been severely set back. Well, he'd just have to catch up, and this was the fastest way.

The two boys continued talking as they made their way to dinner with their group of friends, everyone thoroughly impressed with Harry's skill on the broom, and singing his praises repeatedly. Harry just politely soaked it up, not responding to most of it.

By the time dinner was nearly over, Harry was itching to leave. The whispers had been so much worse tonight thanks to his classroom antics. Harry had dared to glance at Snape at one point, only to be greeted by the coal-coloured glare of the potions master. Yes, something told Harry he had hit the nail on the head about the appeasement of Madam Hooch playing a large role in his newly-gifted privileges.

"If you don't mind, I am just going to go for a small walk. Get some evening air and all that. You understand I'm sure?" He politely excused himself from the table, and left the hall.

He quietly stole away to the trophy room; where a certain gangly, freckled, redhead stood beaming.

"Harry!" Ron grinned at him. Harry found himself grinning back.

* * *

They had spent hours sitting there, in the admittedly less than comfortable room, lounging around glass cabinets and glittering awards. By the time Harry had conjured up a light to check his watch they had broken curfew by nearly an hour. He was shocked he'd let himself slip up like this, he could only imagine what a nightmare his roommates would be the next day.

Before Harry could point out the dilemma to his companion, Ron had evidently seen something behind Harry in the cabinet he was pressed against.

"Hey, that's my brother!" Ron crawled forward, from where he'd been sitting across from Harry, pointing over Harry's shoulder.

Harry turned to look, seeing a fairly fresh trophy sitting on the shelf. It was made out to a ' _Charlie Weasley'_ and it was awarded for ' _Exceptional skill in Care of Magical Creatures_ ', dated a few years ago.

"Hey I bet we could find a trophy for each of my brothers, I know Bill had loads, and Percy's got a few." Ron looked around. Although Harry wanted to mention the time to Ron, he had a more pressing question.

"How many brothers do you have? I've seen those twins around, and the one with the glasses from platform 9 ¾. And you have a sister too right?" Ron seemed to almost blush for a moment.

"How come you remember so much about my family at the station?"

"Dunno, you were the only gingers around, maybe that's why." Ron cracked a smile at Harry's friendly ribbing.

"Yeah, well, no. Ok, so, from youngest up, there's my sister Ginny, who you saw, and then there's me." Ron placed a hand on his chest, and then began ticking names off with his fingers. "Then the twins, Fred and George, who're in their third year now. Then there's Percy, the one with glasses, then my oldest brothers are Charlie, he works with dragons, and Bill, who's a cursebreaker." Ron seemed to reach the end of his long list.

"Oh is that all? Harry asked nonchalantly. Ron laughed probably much louder than he should have, given the hour. After he quieted down, Harry asked another question.

"So you're the youngest boy?"

"Yeah. I think they were trying for a girl, and just got unlucky every time." He mused, looking slightly put out. Harry remembered the pathetic looking sandwiches from the train.

"It must be crowded at home." He noted.

"Oh Merlin, you don't know the half of it! It's a nightmare. Sometimes I wish it was just quiet." Ron didn't look as though he had meant to say the last part aloud. "The twins are a riot though, when it's not me they're going after."

"Going after?"

"Yeah, they're always pulling pranks and stuff. Sometimes the jokes are funny, but sometimes it goes a bit too far, you know?" Ron looked uncomfortable now. Maybe it was time for a shift in tone.

"I'd always wondered what it would have been like to have siblings."

"Trust me mate, you're lucky." Ron didn't really grasp the implications of just _why_ Harry was an only child, but he let it pass. Ron wasn't trying to be malicious.

"Yeah, I can tell." Harry smiled, trying to lighten the tone slightly. It worked, as Ron gave a small chuckle.

"Well, we had better be heading back now, it's way over curfew." Harry mentioned, and Ron's smile dimmed slightly.

"Oh, so soon?" He seemed sad.

"Look, I've been working on Malfoy okay? I've been trying to make him more bearable to be around so we won't have to pretend much more." Harry explained. Ron just shot him a mildly grossed out look.

"I don't exactly want to be friends with him. I know you sort of have to just to survive in that place." Harry internally smiled, what _did_ this boy think went on in the slytherin common room? "But can't you tell him to piss off a little bit more? He follows you around like a weird albino puppy." They started walking back together, speaking in hushed tones. Harry had to stop himself from laughing at that one.

"I know, but he's just doing what his parents told him to. They want him to be friends with me because I'm famous. He's not as much of a git once you get past the stuff his parents tell him." Harry tried to sway Ron slightly, it would make life a lot easier on him if they got on, or at least pretended to. Ron opened his mouth, likely to slag off the slytherin more, but stopped dead in his tracks, eyes looking ahead.

"Ron, what is it?" Harry hissed, also stilling.

"That's Mrs Norris." Ron said. Looking ahead, Harry could just about make out the small form of a cat, one with piercing red eyes. He wasn't sure what he was missing here. Possibly seeing his confused look, Ron turned to him.

"That's Filch's cat, and if she's here, he's not far behind, we have to go now!" Ron hissed slightly louder this time, grabbing Harry's hand and turning to run. Harry wasn't about to argue anytime soon, and began to run as well.

"Well, Mrs Norris what is it?" A deep croaky voice was heard at the end of the corridor from where they had just fled.

The two boys ran, both surprisingly fast, as far as they could, putting as much distance between them and demon cat and caretaker. Somehow, they could still hear him in the distance. Of course he would know the school better than the two of them.

"Quickly!" Ron whispered, pulling open a door, and they both ran inside it, and quickly closing it again, checking through the keyhole to see if Filch was gone yet.

" _No! Harry! This is the third floor corridor!"_ Tom screamed, momentarily deafening Harry.

Before Harry could voice this to Ron, he heard the sound on heavy breathing behind him. He turned around. He froze.

"Well I think – " Harry cut Ron off by slamming his hand over the other boy's mouth. As the redhead turned to ask why he had just been hit, he saw it.

Before them was a huge, slobbering beast. It had three, dog-shaped heads, each with huge slobbering maws, crammed full of razor sharp teeth. At first glance Harry had thought there were three creatures, but realized upon closer inspection the the three heads were connected to one large, monstrous, fur-covered torso. The monster bore a violent resemblance to Cerberus, the guard of the underworld from Greek mythology. As Harry's eyes looked up and down the monster, he saw the humongous paws, deadly claws flexed in each. What's more, he saw something under the paw. Was that a handle?

He was wrenched from his observations by the creature itself, who let out a furious roar at being disturbed. Harry and Ron took that cue to hastily leave, deciding that of the two options, they would rather face Filch.

Sprinting from the third floor entirely, the two boys ran, Harry following Ron, who had the advantage of longer legs to carry him. When they came to a stop, they panted, totally out of breath. When they had recovered, the situation had a chance to set in.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Ron asked incredulously.

"I don't know, it looked like Cerberus, though."

"What's that?" Ron shot Harry a confused look.

"Oh he's like this guard of the afterlife in a muggle religion." Harry briefly explained. "The Cerberus is described as a three-headed dog."

"Well it certainly had three heads, I didn't notice the one body part."

"Did you see the trapdoor?" Harry asked.

"The what?" Ron asked incredulously. "No, I was more focused on its teeth!" He laughed slightly.

"It was guarding something." Harry concluded aloud.

"Whatever it was, it wasn't worth it!" Ron paused. "Well, at least we know Dumbledore wasn't joking about that painful death!" Ron grinned. Harry did his best to not react to the name.

"Yeah, well, after that, I'd better get back to the dungeons, we're a long way up." Harry looked off the balcony at the moving staircases below.

"Sorry, my first thought was to go back to Gryffindor tower." He gestured at the painting, who was sound asleep. Huh, so this was Gryffindor tower.

"Well I'll see you soon okay? And remember I'm trying to get Malfoy to stop being stupid, and then we can hang out together normally."

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Good night Harry." Ron gave Harry one more blinding smile before turning to wake the portrait. Harry slunk off before the painting could recognise him and possibly get him in trouble.

Whatever that dog was guarding, Harry was going to find out.


	7. Chapter 7

Harry awoke with a grunt. He was rather regretting last night's escapades. He looked to his small bedside table scornfully, as though cursing the homework laying on it. At least he'd woken up early, he'd have enough time to get some of it done before the others woke up.

Despite being well-versed in the practical side of magic, Harry still had to learn so much, given that he had no idea what spell he could be using at any given time. He needed names, he needed incantations, he needed understanding. It was even more crucial that he learned to recognise spells merely so that he knew what spells others were using, just in case. There was also magical history, culture and customs, and potions. This all added up to a fair amount, given that Harry was trying to learn an entire culture privately.

He had found both Ron and Draco equal parts useful for this, each knowledgeable in the wizarding world's traditions and norms. Tom knew small bits, but often his knowledge of things was patchy, and while he could help fill in some gaps for Harry he couldn't instruct him alone. That was just fine; as long as he supplied Harry with enough to carry a conversation with a magic-raised pureblood, they would fill in the rest. He was getting a fair idea of just how politically-charged the houses here were. Harry hadn't realised when he had the houses explained to him just how instrumental they were in deciding the future of a wizard.

It was bizarre to think about children being disowned by their parents for their _school house_. Apparently while not common, this practice wasn't unheard of.

He hauled himself out of bed, and began preparing for the day, hopefully the others wouldn't give him trouble for being out after curfew, he knew they weren't about to snitch anytime soon but he didn't want to hear about it all day either. Slytherins were shockingly whiny when you gave them a chance.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Zabini rubbing his eyes, seemingly also awakening early. It was slightly irritating that Harry wouldn't have the first hour of the morning to himself as usual, but at least it was Zabini, the quietest of the group. Hopefully he would just go up to the common room and do his work silently, as Harry intended to. He wasn't in a very talkative mood, having exhausted his conversational battery the night before. Who knows, maybe the other boy would just go to the loo and return to bed.

As if he would be so lucky.

Harry made a polite gesture at him as if saying good morning, before promptly making his way to the showers.

* * *

Harry came out of the shower, realising he had forgotten his school shirt. How frustrating. He usually changed in the stall after his shower, or else behind the curtains of his bed. He valued what little privacy he could get with the constant attention from the other boys. He really would have thought that a wizard as noble as Salazar Slytherin would have at least been snobby enough to give students their own rooms.

Padding back into the room to finish getting dressed he saw that Zabini was still sitting in bed, writing something in a notebook. Upon hearing Harry return however, he stopped. Tucking the notebook back into the drawer of his nightstand, he pulled the covers off himself and started walking to the bathroom. Had he been waiting for Harry to finish? Perhaps he valued his privacy too.

As Zabini passed Harry, his eyes raked Harry's torso, sticking at certain points, inspecting him as meticulously as a mortician. Thankfully the moment passed, but Harry was frankly shocked at the nerve of it. He checked the points that had drawn the most interest from the taller boy, and realised that they were his scars.

Harry had a fair number of scars on his torso, but he had to remind himself of them quite often as they drifted to the back of his head, out of mind but absolutely not out of sight. Most of them were innocuous enough, like the one above his left elbow that he got from trying to jump over the wall. He had caught himself on one of the more cracked bricks, managing to cause a nasty gash.

Others were from more suspicious things that he supposed he would have to find time to lie about, like the slash on his upper arm from when Nathan had stabbed him as hard as he could with that steak knife one particularly cold winter. Harry checked himself over, trying to find the others that had caught the other boy's gaze.

There were the three faint streaks on his right lower abdomen, where he had been thrown backwards by a particularly _explosive_ spell that he had been practicing that day. He was lucky he only scraped his side on the tree.

He had one on his back too, over his right shoulder, from when Peter had lured him into the kitchen. Madam Nelson had insisted that Harry must have been up to trouble in there, it was a prohibited area, and he deserved what he got. She thought he must have somehow injured himself.

Well Harry didn't see how one could hold a searing hot pan on their own back, but that was neither here nor there was it?

That incident had been not too long before they died.

Before Harry killed them.

With a sinister grin forcefully contorting his features, he put on his shirt. He didn't need to dwell in the past, it was pointless. He really _had_ almost forgotten that he had those scars, by now they were just another part of his body. There were some that he couldn't explain himself, having forgotten what caused them, or having been there too long. He didn't have many, perhaps a few small ones that you had to squint to see, but in Harry's opinion that was to be expected for a child that roamed the woods every day.

Once he was dressed, he collected his stuff and strolled up towards the common room, idly taking note that the try-outs were scheduled for the following Saturday as he passed the notice board.

He would remember that Zabini had done this. It wasn't the act itself; he really couldn't care less about whether or not people saw them, it was the audacity of taking the first opportunity that Harry was shirtless to inspect him. It was _very_ Slytherin.

Perhaps Zabini and Harry had more in common than he had first suspected.

* * *

Harry took his time walking down to Hagrid's hut, relishing in the fresh air and the solitude.

It seemed that Draco and the others were finally starting to accept that Harry couldn't actually be tailed by someone every second. Since his midnight stint a few days ago they had been suspicious, but evidently were allowing Harry to have his space. How generous.

He hadn't actually specified a time with Hagrid, but it was nearing four o'clock now, which should have been long enough for the man to be there when Harry arrived.

Knocking on the door, Harry heard the sounds of rustling inside, as though someone were tidying up.

The door opened, revealing the tree of a man, who gave a rather pleased smile.

"Harry! Good to see ya." He patted Harry's shoulder, in a very familial way. Well, the note said the man had known him when he was quite small, so Harry ignored the friendliness as residual recognition of that.

"Nice to meet you." Harry smiled politely, entering the hut.

The hut had a very cosy interior. Along the wall there were several cabinets and cupboards that formed a small kitchen, and various cages and boxes and knick-knacks were strung above the kitchen, far above Harry. On the opposite wall a comparatively small bed was placed between barrels and crates. In the center of the small room sat a round table, and some very comfortable looking chairs. On the table sat two mugs, a teapot, jug of milk, a sugar bowl, and a plate of rather sad-looking pastries. All of the crockery was mismatching.

Overall the home was very quaint, and while cramped and untidy, was in no way dirty. Everything was surprisingly spotless, potentially thanks to the anticipation of company. Going to sit at the table, he noticed a very large black dog lying under the bed that he had, somehow, missed.

Hagrid had sat down, and when he saw Harry's line of sight, he started to explain.

"Oh, don' mind 'im. Tha's jus' fang. Total wimp, utterly 'armless, aren't you boy?" He directed the last bit at the now simpering dog, who did in fact look rather harmless to Harry.

Harry reached out his arm to the dog, letting it sniff him. After a few cursory sniffs Fang just retreated further.

"Silly boy." Hagrid started pouring himself a cup of tea.

"Tea?" He offered to Harry. After a smile and nod, the teas were poured. Perhaps it was time to get down to business.

"So, Hagrid. I know I said 'it's nice to meet you', but I'm guessing that it would be more appropriate to say 'meet you again'?" Harry inquired, taking a sip of his tea, and finding it rather well-made. Just the right amount of milk.

"Oh yeah, well. The las' time I saw you, you were a baby, so maybe it makes more sense tha' this is the firs' time. You were such a small baby. You fit in my palm!" He held up his hand, as though to illustrate. Harry suspected fitting in Hagrid's palm wasn't exactly a challenge as a baby.

"Wow, so were you and my parents friends then?" Harry asked, genuine curiosity taking over.

"Oh, your parents," He smiled, as though recalling something, "Thumpin' good wizards they were. We knew each other through Dumbledore, actually." Hagrid sipped his tea.

Harry was confused.

"Through Dumbledore? They knew him?"

"They were quite close to 'im during the war. 'e was 'elping 'em out with things you know." Harry was flabbergasted to learn that Dumbledore had been friends with his parents. For a moment he started to question how that could be.

" _How horrible…He sent the only child of his dead friends to live with their abusive relatives…"_ Tom sounded in. And he was right, this only made his crimes graver to Harry. Dumbledore had betrayed his _friends_. Something dark and twisted curled deep inside Harry, just out of reach.

Harry tried to move on, refusing to lose control of his emotions.

"What were they like?" He asked earnestly.

"Well, yer mum, Lily, she was brilliant. She was fierce, and so smart. She was near top of her classes, and boy did she know it. Gave all those stupid blood purists a run for their money, mind. They were always upset to be beaten by a muggleborn."

A muggleborn? How interesting. That would make Harry a halfblood, wouldn't it? Oblivious to Harry's internal monologue, Hagrid continued.

"The thing about Lily was how kind she was. Lily was always protecting others, probably how she ended up in Gryffindor, as opposed to Ravenclaw. Nicest woman you could've known."

"Yer dad, James was a bit of a jokester. Him and his mates always pulling pranks." Hagrid chortled. "He did just fine for himself in smarts as well, but he put it all into them jokes. Spent every day in detention as far as I remember. You look just like him. But not the eyes, you've got yer mum's eyes." Hagrid now looked to Harry sadly.

As thrilled as Harry was to hear about his parents, the large man looked as though he were actually close to crying now, and instead chose to come back again soon for more information. Harry was also not feeling up to hearing much more himself actually, which he found very confusing.

"So, what's it like being a groundskeeper?" Not such an artful subject change, but at least the watery look was disappearing.

"Eh? Well it's tough work, but good work, mind. Gives yer lots of work t' be getting on with." Hagrid started detailing the many tasks he performed on a daily basis, and Harry wondered if they couldn't give the man a larger bed. His brawn was certainly being put to use.

" _He's half giant…"_ Tom jutted in suddenly, as though he'd just remembered. Fascinating. Harry wondered which side.

Harry's attention was suddenly drawn again when Hagrid mentioned feeding creatures for the Care of Magical Creatures lessons.

"Did you say rats?" Hagrid paused, pulled from the long list of tasks he had been explaining.

"Yeah, the babies are too small for weasel a' the mo."

"Where do you get the rats?"

"Nice little place down in Hogsmeade. Sells all sorts for animals." Hagrid looked slightly confused. "Why do ya ask?"

"Oh well, my snake, he's so fussy, and the packaged rats I buy him never satisfy him." Harry explained, reminding himself not to mention that he can talk to Zaccai. He didn't think that would go down well in front of Hagrid.

"If yer want Harry, I can mail some t' ya when I go next. I know first years ain't allowed to Hogsmeade, but I'll grab em for ya." Hagrid smiled. "But you'll have to let me meet the little fella. Sounds delightful."

"That would be so helpful. If you just let me know how much they are I can – " Harry was waved off.

"I can get ther rats for yer 'arry. 's the least I could do. Merlin knows I owe ya a few birthday presents." He dismissed immediately. "Anyway, that's enough about me, how're you doin? I admit I was surprised to see ya sorted int' Slytherin. Both yer parents were as Gryffindor as ya could get."

"Ah well, I guess it didn't pass on. School's going quite well actually…" The topic divulged into various school topics, all very-surface level things. Then a thought occurred to Harry, perhaps Hagrid would know about the cerberus, after all, he seemed to be a bit of a creature enthusiast, rambling on nearly endlessly about the creatures he had to feed and look after in great detail.

" _Harry, he clearly loves creatures… Try to appeal to his love for them. He may have even had something to do with it himself…"_

Tom raised an interesting point; what with all the other tasks he was responsible for, it seemed perfectly reasonable that he would assume caretaking responsibilities for the creature. Actually, given the size, it was probably likely that Hagrid, with his size and brawn, was the only member of staff that _could_ take care of the thing safely.

What would be the best path here? Harry appraised the man once again, and decided that going gryffindor might be more expected, and soothe any reluctance to answer his questions.

"Hagrid, you like magical creatures right?" Harry asked, double checking for clarity.

"Oh, love 'em I do. More often 'an not you'll find the poor things're just misunderstood." Hagrid shook his head. Harry pounced on this.

"Yes! Well, there's this dog thing I found, and I was trying to figure out how to calm it down, because it seemed really jumpy when I found it, but I can tell it isn't like that normally." Harry was playing it _very_ risky here, and going off a great number of assumptions and guesswork. He only prayed that this paid off.

Hagrid knocked over his tea."How do you know about fluffy?"

"Well, I was trying to find the transfiguration classroom in the first week, but all the moving staircases were getting me so lost and confused, and I walked through the wrong door, and well… There it was." Harry sounded as sincere as he could, and stamped down the seeds of hope at nearing that Hagrid named the monster ' _fluffy_ '. "You know about it?"

"Well," Hagrid started wiping at the spilled tea with his ginormous sleeve, not looking Harry in the eye. "Yer right there, fluffy's just a sweetie really. He's mine, bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year. I lent him to Dumbledore to guard th' – " Hagrid cut himself off when he realised what he had been about to say, face reddening.

Harry considered pressing that particular matter, but realised it would just make the half-giant clam up, and possibly even sour their future relationship. He already knew the dog was guarding something, and it would be very suspicious for him to start asking questions. Harry could pretend to focus on the dog for now, since that was what he expressed interest in initially.

Harry pretended to not have heard or care about the last bit. "What species is it? It looked like a Cerberus from greek mythology." Hagrid had a look that told Harry this was the right thing to say.

"Well, the muggles had to get It from somewhere eh? Yeh, Fluffy's a Cerberus, lovely things, and so sweet. Play 'em a song and they'll pop right off t' sleep."

"See I knew it wasn't as aggressive as it acted." Harry tried to play dumb again. It was working, and now he knew how to get past the creature, maybe he could go and take a peak at what was down there himself.

* * *

Harry spent a rather long time at Hagrid's hut before he left to change before dinner. He was rather charming in a very rustic way. His company was pleasant enough, though Harry was much more invested in the usefulness of the man.

What Harry noticed was Hagrid's seemingly blind devotion to Dumbledore. He wouldn't stop talking about how great the old wizard was. Hagrid just _oozed_ 'manipulated fanboy'. Harry started to suspect that Dumbledore had already made Hagrid his pawn long ago, possibly also seeing his inherent value for what it was.

Dumbledore was more Slytherin than he was letting on.

* * *

Harry strolled up to breakfast with the others, mind wandering. The try outs weren't for another hour and a half, but he was trying to contain his anticipation. He was as quiet as he usually was while they ate, talking about school subjects. Then the topic changed. They were talking about Hermione again. Lately they just wouldn't shut up about her.

"Yeah, it makes much more sense that she's a mudblood. She stands out far too much." Daphne agreed to something that Theo had said.

"What's wrong with her being a muggleborn?" Harry asked in an icy tone. As the group turned to him, it was with surprise. Perhaps he shouldn't have let them talk about blood purity this way for so long. He was changing up his behaviour, and unsettling them.

Good.

"She doesn't belong here. She's never going to be as powerful as a pureblood." Draco explained with a hint of venom, as though explaining how 2 + 2 equals 4 to someone who insisted it equaled 5. The others looked at Harry with expressions varying from confusion to annoyance to surprise.

"And yet she tops you in every class." Harry shut down, looking at his toast while he spread marmalade on it.

"Mudbloods are basically muggles, filthy, stupid, and gross." Draco sounded annoyed now, like Harry was failing to understand something very simple.

"My mother was a muggleborn." Harry said, making eye contact with him. This made Draco's eyebrows shoot up, and Harry could see the cogs turning in his mind, desperately considering how to proceed.

"My apologies, perhaps you don't want to sit with a filthy half-blood." Harry stood up, taking his toast with him, voice still neutral. He looked around the table and saw the bewildered eyes of his friends fixed on him. "I'll take my disgusting blood somewhere else." With that, he left the hall, walking normally. He didn't want to appear as though he were running away. The exchange had fortunately felt like less of a fight and more of a scolding.

Maybe that would be more effective than trying to educate them. He had to force them to pretend to be okay with muggleborns and half-bloods, and then work on them until they actually believed it. In the meantime, they would have to play nice with Ron and possibly Hermione if he managed to end their ceaseless teasing of her.

Harry still had a while before tryouts, and decided to go to the owlery to see Hedwig. While there he could also order some more everyday robes, as he couldn't very well continue wearing the only two he had. While he could wear his normal clothes, which he also packed, it would receive strange looks from his associates, and they were rather scruffy and ill-fitting to begin with.

He could also do with some more style and colour variety; the ones he was currently wearing were a deep gray with black trim, and the others were a navy colour with a silver pattern. He could do with some paler ones for when summer came around once more.

Perching in the owlery window as he watched Hedwig take off, he took in the view. This must have been the second highest reaching tower in the whole school.

" _The astronomy tower is the tallest…"_

"We'll have to go there sometime soon, I bet flying from there would be extraordinary…" Harry thought back.

"Excuse me, but get down from there right now." An alarmed but firm voice reprimanded from behind him. Harry acquiesced, jumping back to the floor safely. Looking up he saw the bespectacled Weasley. Ron said his name was Percy, didn't he?

"Sorry, I was just saying goodbye to my owl."

"Well you shouldn't sit so near the ledge, you could have fallen." The older boy admonished, sounding angrier than he probably should have. There was also the tiniest hint of satisfaction in his voice, which was far too emotionally involved for telling a student to get down from somewhere in Harry's opinion. He was clearly enjoying the power that prefect provided him with, perhaps a bit too much. He suddenly seemed to recognise Harry.

"Oh hello Harry. Sending a letter?" The shift in attitude, tone, expression - It was jarring, even for Harry. He had never even spoken to this boy before.

"Uh, yes." Harry didn't feel the need to share the details of his post with him, and didn't fully see why someone would expect that of someone they had never met. "You're Ron's older brother Percy right?" Harry asked, trying to figure out the very strange specimen before him.

"Yes, Ron's my younger brother, and he told me that you two have been getting on well. It's very good to hear, there's a lot of inter-house tension at Hogwarts, so it's nice to hear that not everyone is held up on tie colours." He nodded approvingly, as he spoke in his rather clear voice. How sensible. That was odd.

If there was one thing Harry was quickly learning about wizards, on the whole they were not very sensible.

Wizards liked to conjure cobwebs for atmosphere and guard things using monsters instead of protective magic. Wizards liked to provide a deadly weapon to 11 year olds and disown their children for being too smart or brave. Wizards liked to ban people from sitting too high in a tower, but encouraged them to fly holding nothing more than a piece of wood.

This boy was very unsettling, purely for the reason that he was sensible, and that was a difficult thing for Harry to rationalise.

Harry took a second to evaluate him.

Percy had two older brothers, both of whom were supposedly high achievers. Both apparently left the home a few years ago, which would leave Percy as the acting eldest child. It was also likely that the eldest brothers separated from the younger siblings during childhood as well, if they needed to study for school and attend Hogwarts while the others remained at home. This means that, for all intents and purposes, Percy had been the eldest child in the Weasley home for a long time.

Harry could imagine what responsibilities may have come with that role, such as caring for the other kids while their parents were focused on one of them. If what Ron said about them wanting a girl was anything to go from, it was possible that they had placed more attention on the youngest Weasley growing up. This could have left Percy with the twins and Ron. The twins who apparently spent their time playing jokes. Harry could only imagine that they were a handful. Perhaps this meant that they had been difficult to control? If so, maybe that had a lasting effect on the boy.

The answer may have been yes, if the evident satisfaction of his command being followed was anything to go on. So, he was also a control freak, which was probably ideal for a prefect. Remembering what Ron said about him having earned a few trophies, it was likely that this need for control carried into his studies. Perhaps he strived to achieve so highly because it had started to be expected of him?

If anything Harry said was correct then this boy had been molded into the role of a politician from an early age. He was used to looking after others, taking their needs into account and providing for them over his own wants or needs. He was accustomed to being put to the side, and expected to step up. He likely was more comfortable with responsibility than without it, if he hadn't experienced a responsibility-free life.

Harry may have been reading into everything far too much, but he had been thrown off by the introduction of a confusing, unknown element. It was like a puzzle he couldn't quite finish. Either way he wanted to leave so that he could reflect further in private.

"Yes, it's all rather silly, really." Harry responded finally, aware of the few seconds that had passed while Harry was contemplating. "I'd better be going to the quidditch tryouts now." He smiled awkwardly and tried to edge past Percy, who moved to the side to allow Harry to escape.

"Good luck!" Percy called after him, seemingly unphased by the sudden departure.

Whatever was going on with that boy, Harry suspected it would be useful.

* * *

Harry stood on the sunny but chilly pitch. The ground was firm and dry, which Harry supposed was ideal for kicking off from. Harry looked down at the school's borrowed broom he clutched in his left hand apprehensively. It had better not play up while he was on it.

Montague had split the students on the pitch into groups; each corresponding with the role they were trying out for, announcing the order that they would go in, in case students wanted to try for multiple roles. First the Chasers would go, which was the largest group, and then the keepers. They would then try out seekers, and finally once everyone had left and there was less risk of smashing people, the beaters.

The seeker group was the smallest. The other two people trying out towered over Harry, their age given them the advantage of size. Harry had a feeling that this wouldn't help them in the air.

To his right stood an angry looking blonde boy, possibly in his fourth or fifth year, who stood with his arms crossed, looking irate. To Harry's left a girl stood, looking slightly green. She was twirling a dreadlock between her fingers anxiously.

They all sat in the stands, watching the other auditions carry out as supposedly standard. In the end, the students that got the position were announced, and the others trailed off disappointed. While the others were trying out, Harry noticed that students would look at him and snicker. They probably realised he was a first year and thought he would be told he couldn't try out, or maybe they thought he was a second year, about to get turned down.

The blonde boy in his group kept glaring daggers at Harry. When they were finally called, he leant over to the other two and hissed at them.

"You'd better not mess this up for me. I'm not getting kicked off the team after a three year run for this!" Harry just gave him a dead look, but the girl nearly started crying.

"Right, So what I'm going to do is release about twenty snitches into the air." As he said this, he handed each of them a small bag. "The winner is the one that collects the most."

"Adam, you realise he's a first year?" The blonde boy pointed to Harry. Harry scowled.

"He's got special permission." Montague answered.

"Ugh, bullshit! Why?" He hissed.

"Don't know, but Snape told me. He's not happy about it either. As long as he's good it's fine." Montague seemed to shut down the conversation, and the three mounted their brooms. He opened a box, and the snitches flooded out, thrilled to be free. He watched them for a second, letting them fly out further from the group. Then he turned back to them.

"3…2…1… Go!" He blew a whistle. All three of them shot up.

For a second, Harry allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of ascending, before focusing on the task at hand. He flew immediately over to one snitch hanging rather close, and grabbed it before he had time to think about it. Shoving it in his bag, he pushed on.

He flew around fast, speeding himself up a bit with his magic. He noticed that at one point the girl had started crying.

He took a mental tally of how many he's caught. He was on 4. He may have been quietly pulling a few of the winged balls into his hand with magic, but overall he was relying on instinct. He couldn't pull his little trick if he was far away, his hand had to be inches away anyway so it just ensured he didn't miss any. It was still cheating though, so Harry tried not to over-do it.

He surveyed the surroundings carefully, not seeing any. From the looks of it, the others couldn't find any more either. Disappointment settled in his stomach, 4 was nowhere near enough. However, a glance over to Flint told him that they weren't done, and as he looked, he finally spotted it!

It was low to the ground, a small flicker of gold. It was closest to the girl, who hadn't seen it yet. Harry took his chance, and started diving.

Seeing his descent, the blonde boy raced after, matching Harry's pace. After not too long, it was neck and neck, and the boy must have seen just how close to the ground the snitch was hovering. Harry's broom shook, its age showing.

At the last moment, the boy pulled up, deciding the risk wasn't worth it, Harry however pulled forward, hand outstretched –

As soon as the cold sensation of metal registered on his fingers he straightened up, clutching the writhing device in his palm. His broom shook violently, and it took everything in Harry's power to not crash to the floor. The sound of a whistle being blown was heard, and the players returned to the pitch floor, Harry tucking his last snitch into his bag.

Harry returned disheartened, knowing that 5 wasn't enough. Both his competitors landed beside him, they had both outdone Harry. He tried not to let his disappointment linger, it wouldn't do to throw a tantrum. He had known that there was a slim chance from the beginning.

They lined up, holding out their bags for evaluation, blondie giving Harry a death glare.

The boy counting the scores up walked over to Montague, and Harry noticed a close familial resemblance. The boy looked barely much older than Harry, and just had to have been a second year. They muttered in hushed tones, before looking at Harry.

"Oi, Potter." Montague suddenly called out. "How long you been flying?"

"Um, that was my second time." Harry answered honestly. Everyone in the surrounding area gave him a look. The boys went back to talking in hushed tones, and blondie appeared to have lost most of his colour.

After what seemed like an eternity, Montague turned back to face them.

"Welcome aboard, Potter." He reached out his hand, and Harry took it immediately, confused and surprised, but moreover; thrilled. He had managed to join the team.

" _Well done Harry…"_ Tom said with the smile-voice.

The girl next to sighed with what may have actually been relief, and left, practically running for the exit. Blondie however, was irate.

"What the _fuck_ Adam?" He yelled. "Seriously? You're not actually gonna try to give me that bullshit are you?" He raged.

"Pierce, you had a good run. Try out next year, maybe you'll get in again, or try for beater. Don't throw a tantrum, you weren't up to scratch." This only angered the boy further.

"I got 8! How the fuck did _he_ get 9, huh?" He gestured at Harry, who had suddenly become confused. He what? He only got 5. What was going on?

"Pierce, don't make this ugly mate. Or you'll be banned from trying out again." Blondie, now dubbed Pierce, snarled at the stone-faced captain. He looked as though he was about to say something else, but instead stormed off, shooting one last withering glare at Harry as he did. They were alone.

"Right. You're on the team now, so I hope you're committed. We practice every Wednesday afternoon, no exceptions. Exact times will be posted on the board on Monday." He saw Harry's suspicious look.

"Look, you may not have gotten the most snitches, but that isn't actually all I was watching." Harry tensed. Had he seen Harry cheating?

"You saw that poor girl? That's Elise. She tries out every year, not that she wants to, and she always gets rejected, and she's all the happier for it. Pierce, well. He's a prick. Utter nightmare to deal with. Not only that, but catching any snitches _at all_ on your second time flying is impressive. I can tell you weren't lying about that, you don't have any of the technique, but we can train that into you." He looked at Harry appraisingly now.

"So, yeah, you got the least snitches, but the things you lack we can train you for, and the things you got, you can't train." Harry nodded at the explanation.

"So you can go now. Like I say, practices will be on the board." Not about to look the gift-horse in the mouth, Harry made to leave, but Montague called out one last thing.

"Oh, and Potter. Buy a broom." Montague shot a disgusted look at the school broom. Harry nodded again, and left for the changing rooms.

* * *

Harry was currently sitting on the floor of the seventh floor corridor, in the utmost corner of the castle, chatting with Ron. He had found him after tryouts, and had spent the rest of the morning with him. Ron was just as jubilant at Harry's success, and said he hadn't even known Harry was so inexperienced on a broom, and all sorts of nice things. Then Harry had mentioned his interaction with Percy.

"Oh yeah, Perce fancies himself Minister of Magic." Ron had rolled his eyes, and Harry had filed that away. Someone older than them, who had an interest in politics would be exactly the type of person Harry wanted to build connections with. He knew Ron would have useful links somewhere along the line.

After Harry had arrived at lunch, he sat down where he usually sat, near the doors to the hall. Surprisingly the other first year slytherins sat down around him. He was waiting for some sort of apology, or an argument perhaps, but they just sat in silence, not talking to him.

"Ah, so that's what we're doing is it?" Harry asked. When he didn't receive an answer, he picked up a few slices of bread and a few pieces of ham and left. He assembled his sandwich while he walked to the library. Harry wasn't going to waste time listening to them trying to just assimilate him back into everyday life. Acting like nothing had happened wouldn't do him any favours. He could catch up on his schoolwork instead, which was much more productive.

Settling down in a quiet corner of the library, he snacked as quietly as he could without Madam Pince noticing him. Once he finished, he got down to business.

Studying was much easier when he was on his own, as opposed to when he was with the others. They always needed help with something or other, and he had to put down whatever he was doing to ask them about their question, which they would then answer themselves. It was incredibly frustrating.

Harry poured through book after book, for hours, until he dotted the last full stop. Looking at the completed stack of schoolwork, he found himself feeling incredibly satisfied. Looking outside, he realised the sky was dark; he had spent the whole afternoon in the library. Checking his watch, he realised it was nearly time for dinner.

He decided he wouldn't go. Not tonight. He was used to skipping meals, so missing dinner wouldn't be too much of a problem, and he wasn't going to be the one to go back to them. They would come grovelling back to him. If they didn't… well. Harry would make sharing a room with him for the next seven years a nightmare. He knew plenty about how to make people's lives miserable.

So with that, Harry pulled out several tomes on Purebloods. He could get a bit more insight into the children he was avoiding.

* * *

After several more hours of studying and chatting idly with Tom in this small, safe corner where couldn't be overheard, Madam Pince finally asked him to leave, right before curfew.

Although Harry was once again tempted to stay out longer and not return to his dorm until his roommates were asleep, he didn't want to actually look as though he was avoiding them.

When he did return, it was once again to awkward looks, this time at least they seemed sheepish.

He had stepped into the room, only for its inhabitants to fall silent, all staring at him. One by one he met their eyes, face neutral and letting his eyes speak. Every time, they would avert their gaze, embarrassed to be caught staring so openly.

He went about his evening routine as usual, and Harry wished they could just tell him what they were thinking. It was so frustrating that no one was speaking, and he couldn't read them!

Finally, Theo broke the silence.

"Um, Harry? Can I just speak to you for a sec?" He beckoned Harry outside, and Harry followed. As much as he wanted to address them all at once, it would be easier to pressure them if it was one-on-one. Entering the situation as one against five would do him no favours.

"Hey." Theo greeted him again, rather annoyingly.

"Hey." Harry returned, voice flat.

"So, um, I just wanted to say that I was sorry for the comments I made about mu- muggleborns." He paused, eyes widening at his almost slip-up. "We all spoke about it, and we understand that for you, they're probably quite rude. We agreed that we would stop making them around you." Theo finished up.

Oh, and he had been so close. Harry could have accepted that yesterday, or last week, but not now. He had been planning to go for the long-con to eventually socialise them with others, but things had changed hadn't they? Knowing now what he did about his own parentage.

"Theo, it isn't just me you shouldn't be saying them around. I know that you've been raised to think that pureblooded is better than muggleborn, but the fact of the matter is that it isn't true." Harry pulled out one of the books he had taken from the library.

"This book looks at a variety of studies, and it concluded that while purebloods often create equally powerful offspring, due to the measures necessary to maintain 'purity'," Harry didn't say incest, but he knew that it was well implied, "offspring are showing decreasing levels of power in recent generations. Here;" Harry opened the book to the page he bookmarked, ignoring Theo's pleadingly uncomfortable look, "these studies suggest that actually the ideal pairing for power would be a pureblood and a muggleborn. It mixes the old magics that run through the family and the new magics that muggleborns have."

"Saying these things and waving them off as opinions is harmful and short-sighted, not just for muggleborns, but for purebloods too." Harry was toeing the line on manners with that one, but he pulled it back again.

Theo started rubbing the back of his head, playing with his short, mousy coloured hair. He looked very distressed, as though Harry was ruining everything by not accepting their half-assed apology.

" _They will need time…"_ Tom reminded him. " _Leave the book with them…Let them read it for themselves… they are more likely to believe the texts than you…"_ Tom advised. After a moment, Harry chose to listen.

"Look. You don't have to speak to me. Please, just tell me that you'll read this? After that I'll never bring it up again." Harry softened his expression. "I just want you to understand my perspective, and then we can move past it." At the mention of moving past the issue Theo brightened up, though still looked unsure. Harry passed him the book.

"Please?" Harry asked him, but in no way begging.

"Okay, fine. I will." Theo agreed, taking the tome and checking it over, as though expecting it to bite him.

"Thank you. I hope we can resolve this and return to normal soon enough." Harry smiled. Theo smiled back.

Harry was glad they sent the weak one.

* * *

The next morning, Harry had decided to brighten up his wardrobe a bit, and ventured to wear his polo top underneath his outer robe. Both were navy, which Tom informed him was tacky, so he waved his hand over the shirt, turning it a pale lavender. He could always change it back. He also lightened the shade of blue to create a matching plae colour. Under this were his dark jeans and his converse and overall, he didn't look entirely mad, which was often as much as you could hope for.

At breakfast that morning Harry had once again sat at the edge of the hall, and this time the other first years sat next to him, but were sending passive aggressive glares his way. He ignored them, venturing for chocolate spread on his toast today as a reward for finishing his schoolwork.

Glancing up, he saw the post was arriving, and hopefully Hedwig would be among them. He couldn't send her for a new broom until she returned.

What Harry did not expect to see, was the long, thin package being carried by no less than six owls. It was coming towards him.

The package was dumped on Harry's lap, and a final owl flew overhead, dropping a letter upon it. Hearing a more familiar hoot, he saw Hedwig swoop to his shoulder, a letter tied tightly to her leg. He fed her some ham, and untied the letter.

Looking around the hall, he saw hundreds of eyes looking at him, whispering and conjecturing. He also saw the nosy gazes of the first year slytherins, who were clearly sorely tempted to ask Harry what it was, despite their silent treatment. Draco looked as though he was fuming, frustrated that they had decided on the only method of social punishment that meant they couldn't satisfy their curiosities.

Harry looked down to the letter that had arrived with the mystery parcel.

 _DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE._

 _It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Congratulations Mr Potter, your parents would be proud._

 _Professor M. McGonagall_

Harry couldn't prevent the smile that overtook his face. He looked towards the teacher in question, glee showing freely. She smiled at him, and faintly raised her goblet. If she knew his parents, that would explain a _lot,_ and Harry was pleased that he had filled a gap in his knowledge. This was nothing compared to how pleased he felt holding his very own broomstick.

Grabbing the letters, the package, his toast, and some ham, he made his way back down to the dungeons to open the package, Hedwig coming along for the ride.

" _Impressive…"_ Tom appraised, as Harry lifted the lid of the box. Harry could only agree, despite his limited knowledge of brooms. It was sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, and a long tail of neat, straight twigs. Harry noticed the golden lettering " _Nimbus Two Thousand"_ glittering from the top of the handle. It was perfect, and Harry couldn't believe it.

It was the perfect gift.

* * *

Although Harry had no more school work, that didn't mean that he had no more work to do at all. He still wanted to look more into magical history.

Strolling towards the history aisle, he saw that he wasn't the only one in the library. That was strange given it was a surprisingly sunny day, the last of Summer being pushed out, and that it was an early Sunday morning.

When he saw who it was, he realised that it made sense. It was Hermione Granger.

He had been perfectly polite to her in the past weeks of school, and she him. They were amicable, but Harry could tell she had been trying to get a bit closer to him. Perhaps while he was fighting with the purebloods, it was best not to rock the boat, but on the other hand that might just be exactly what was needed.

He could tell they were waiting for him to come back, to realise they were right, or at least to accept that they were all he had, and he had to accept them; racism and all. If Harry was friendly with others, perhaps he could show them that they were about to lose him as an ally, particularly if he started publically associating with gryffindors.

" _It's risky…but it may benefit you to use the favour you gained with the gryffindors now while it is fresh…It could also scare the others, as you hope."_ Tom approved, but didn't sound totally convinced. Well, Harry had to make a move at some point.

Making his decision, Harry stode over to the girl. "Hi, sorry, but were you going to read that one right now?" He pointed to the stack of books to her left.

Hermione, who seemed surprised to be joined by anyone, took a second to respond. "That one was next." She eyed the half of her book that remained cautiously.

"Could I just read it quickly until you finish that one? I'll sit here so you know I'm not going to run off with it." Harry could tell she had latched onto the offer of company rather than the promise of returning the book.

"Well okay then." She smiled awkwardly, appearing to not understand how to act. She had probably never had anyone join her before.

While they read in silence together, Harry noticed over the next hour that the brunet slowly relaxed around him. At the start she had repeatedly glanced at him, as though expecting him to leave at any second, but had slowly stopped when she must have realised he was staying.

Her shoulders started to droop, her jaw unclenched, and a small smile graced her lips. He managed to get about half way through his own book before she finished hers. He offered her the book back.

"Uh, actually it's okay, I'll just read this one next." She blushed at him. She obviously didn't want him to leave again. He smiled, and they both sat in silence again, reading.

They sat together, reading, for the whole day. Harry would finish a book, and put it on the top of the pile, selecting the one below to read next. Hermione would then finish her book, and read the one Harry had just put down. They were all magical history based, and he suspected Hermione was also trying to learn as much as she could about magical culture and history. This suited him just fine, as they were all books Harry had wanted to read.

By the time the sky darkened, they must have read four or five books each, both having missed lunch without noticing. It had been a very peaceful day. When they finally left the library for dinner, they walked to the great hall together, still in silence. Hermione walked cautiously next to Harry, looking as though she was trying desperately not to break some kind of spell. It was as though she suspected this was too good to be real, and Harry would tell her to leave him alone after the moment ended. How vulnerable.

They entered the great hall together, and smiled at each other as they seperated to go to their separate tables.

Harry could feel the surprised eyes of the purebloods on him as he sat down to eat. He supposed he would find out if his 'rocking the boat' idea had any hope. If they got unbearable he could always just leave.

"Didn't realise you and Granger were friends." Draco remarked coldly. He sounded almost hurt.

"Well, there you go." Harry didn't look at them, focusing on soaking his roast potatoes in gravy.

"Any other friends you didn't mention?" The blonde asked in an accusatory tone.

"Maybe if you didn't talk about how awful you find mudbloods, I'd have told you about my other friends." Harry still ignored them, eating no faster than usual.

This must have stumped the other boy, who went quiet. Unfortunately, Pansy took the chance to jump in.

"I just don't get it, you're a halfblood anyway, that's close enough. Why do you even want to talk to Granger? We apologised, didn't we? Why can't you just let this go?" She seemed genuinely confused. Harry turned around now, to answer the question.

"Pansy. Look around, how many muggleborns can you see? Not just in our year but the school in general? There aren't many. Do you know why that is?" He paused, but she didn't answer. "It's because when they were babies, the war was at its peak, and muggleborn children were found and slaughtered. Babies and toddlers were murdered for being born with magic." Harry had actually almost growled when he read that earlier that day.

"I was born to a pureblood and a muggleborn. My mother was murdered for being a muggleborn, and my father had to go with her. If everything had gone to plan, I would have been murdered as well." He stared into her eyes as he said this. "I had to grow up without my parents because someone decided that my mother didn't fit into their worldview." The purebloods started to pale as they perhaps realised the gravity of his reaction. Harry was struggling to contain actual rage now, and he could tell that he was failing. Icy fury leaked into his voice. "How _dare_ you try to convince me to just 'let go' of this?"

" _Harry… calm down…it won't help to explode here, save it for later…"_ Tom soothed, Harry taking a deep breath to do as Tom instructed. His face became neutral again, which clearly scared the children more than his rage. Tom was right, It wouldn't help anyone if Harry accidentally smashed a few plates right now. Harry looked at his plate now, still mostly full. He couldn't stomach it. Making a disgusted face at it, he got up and left.

Harry was in bed with drawn curtains long before anyone came down to bed.


End file.
